


For This Alliance May So Happy Prove

by Smallhumanchild



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: High School Theater, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Inspired by Romeo and Juliet, M/M, Makeovers, Modern Era, Rom-com, Underage Drinking, dear god someone help Melchior, let Ernst be sassy, literally everything you'd see in a high school AU, sort of fake dating???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:08:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25680358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smallhumanchild/pseuds/Smallhumanchild
Summary: “All I’m saying is, Romeo and Juliet is the most tired story about the dumbest hetero couple on this earth. And it’s way too overdone.”Ernst thinks his version of Romeo and Juliet with a happy ending will win crowds over, Hanschen thinks his epic gay love story would be more interesting. Moritz is frustrated with Melchior, Melchior is somewhat clueless. Ilse and Wendla are just here for shits and giggles.
Relationships: Hanschen Rilow/Ernst Robel, Melchior Gabor/Moritz Stiefel, Wendla Bergmann & Ilse Neumann
Comments: 24
Kudos: 23





	1. A dog of the house of Montague moves me

_ “All _ I’m saying is, Romeo and Juliet is the most  _ tired _ story about the  _ dumbest _ hetero couple on this earth. And it’s  _ way _ too overdone,” Hanschen barked, leaning in  _ way _ too close to Ernst.

For the past twenty minutes, the drama group of Hoboken High School had sat in a circle and watched Ernst: a small, sometimes soft spoken, brown haired boy, and Hanschen: a tall, intelligent blonde, bicker back and forth over whether or not  _ Romeo and Juliet  _ should be performed as the greatest LGBTQ epic of all time. The conversation had started off simple enough, the two leaders holding calm discourse over how the fall play should be executed, but what had started as a civil conversation quickly fell apart into a battle.

“Hanschen, it’s  _ not _ true to the story!” Ernst gritted, never breaking the searing gaze between them.

“Neither is your version! It takes away all meaning!” Hanschen argued. He was correct, the whole moral of the story, to not let old family disputes consume you and to let go of old feelings, all revolved around the deaths of Romeo and Juliet. However, Ernst would throw himself into the pits of hell before ever admitting it. 

Hanschen and Ernst had been rivals since the very first day of middle school. For around five years, the two were sworn enemies: Ernst hated Hanschen because he was rude and haughty, and Hanschen hated Ernst because Ernst hated him. Had they met in kindergarten or first grade, like the majority of their friends, they might have had a better relationship, having known each other before maturing and formed a more intricate personality, back when the only issues little children had to deal with was what game they were playing at recess or what mother packed in their lunchboxes. Both of them belonged to the same circle of friends, which did end up presenting some problems since the two seem to bicker almost every minute of the day. Rehearsal was no different. 

“Well, at least  _ my _ version would make sense for the time period.” Ernst argued, his tone displaying cockiness as if to say:  _ I’ve got you now!  _

“What’s more boring; practically the same retelling of an overrated story with a slight twist at the end, or an amazing love story that breaks away from the societal norm? Which version do you think people are going to pay money to see?”

“Which version breaks more copyright laws?”

“-Stop it! Just  _ shut up _ already!” Ilse screamed in the split second of silence while Hanschen was taking a sharp breath, preparing to go on another long tirade. Everyone else in the group of students relaxed, Ilse finally putting a stop to the banter. “Why don’t we just do the regular old story? Not everything has to be unique or different in order to draw in crowds,” She reasoned, clasping her hands in front of her knees as she sat like an all-knowing deity. “You said it yourself, Hanschen, it’s a cheesy hetero romance love story. You know all the straight girls are gonna be all over that shit.”

“But it’s the same story every time. It’s  _ boring as hell, _ ” The blonde groaned in response, throwing his head back like a toddler throwing a tantrum. 

“I say we vote on which version is better.” Ernst offered.

“Good idea. As long as it means you and bitch boy will stop bickering like an old married couple,” Ilse bit at the two. 

“Okay then, this is how the vote will go. Ilse, you tally up the votes in my notebook, including yours, and we’ll have an anonymous vote,” Hanschen ordered, grabbing a pristine yellow notebook out of his backpack, the only marking on it reading  _ U.S History _ . After handing it to Ilse, he re-assumed his position in the circle, avoiding the eye of the small mousy enemy beside him. 

“Alright. Everyone close your eyes. Everyone in favor of Hanschen’s epic gay love story, raise your hand,” Ilse started, staying silent for a minute as she counted up votes. “Now, everyone in favor of Ernst’s happy ending love story, raise your hand,” Ilse went silent for another moment, once more counting. “Cool. Everyone open your eyes. It’s a tie,” She announced unceremoniously. Her news was met by a choir of groans and gasps from the other cast members. 

“Well that solved absolutely nothing,” Melchior groaned, flopping back on the old carpet of the auditorium. 

Before the two boys could begin arguing again, a tall man wearing tortoise shell glasses made his way towards the group of teens: Director Freidrich, who consistently wore casual business wear and always carried a thermos of coffee. He, being the most laid back teacher, was a favorite amongst students. That being said, no one would want to be the recipient of his wrath, if provoked. Therefore, the moment he stepped in, Ernst and Hanschen came to an unspoken agreement not to resume their verbal smackdown. 

“Students,” He greeted, setting his blue thermos used mostly on Thursdays and Fridays down on a small table, today being a Thursday it was most appropriate. “I heard arguing, what’s the issue?” 

Wendla, being the angel she is, decided to explain: “Hanschen and Ernst both want to do their own version of  _ Romeo and Juliet _ , so we held a vote and it came out as a tie. Now we don’t know which version to perform.”

Freidrich thought for a second, fiddling with the lid of the thermos, before a flash of an idea crossed his features. 

“Hmm… what if we held a competition to decide which version of the play gets performed in the fall? You each perform one act of the play, and perform it for the student body. Both your audience and I will vote, and the winner gets to perform their version in its entirety,” He suggested. He scanned the students, none of them disagreeing. 

“So then it's settled. You will partake in the version you voted for, and you will also have to complete setting up the whole show in the event that yours gets picked. Hanschen and Ernst will be your leaders. Good luck!” He waved, thermos back in hand as he exited the auditorium, leaving the students a bit frazzled. 

“Well then.” Hanschen quickly regathered himself, distancing himself from the other cast leader. “Ernst, you take the left side of the auditorium, and I’ll take the right.” 

“Fine,” The brunette spat at the other’s back as he rounded up his performers. Normally, he would have argued that  _ he  _ wanted to choose the side of the auditorium to be on, but that felt too trivial to dwell on, and he wasn’t that pugnacious.

“Ernst, why do you let him get to you so much?” Wendla questioned, sidling up beside him.

Ernst scoffed, thinking it was quite obvious as to why he held annoyance for the other boy. “He’s so  _ cocky.  _ And  _ arrogant.  _ He acts like he knows everything and I know nothing.”

“Like I said, he’s a bitch boy,” Ilse nodded, taking her place on the other side of Ernst. 

“Ilse? You voted for mine?” The boy asked, beaming widely.

“Yeah, as if I’d vote for his. I agree, Hanschen isn’t always right. As much as I do love a good gay love story, I don’t want to have to work with him for the next month and a half,” Ilse explained, earning a snort from Wendla. 

  
  
  


Away from the gathering groups, Melchior and Moritz had their own argument brewing.

Melchior and Moritz had been an inseparable duo since kindergarten, after Melchior saved Moritz from getting milk dumped on his head at lunch. At first, Moritz was friends with the taller as a way to show his gratitude, -it was more of a symbiotic relationship of some sort- but he grew to enjoy the company, Moritz was normally more aloof. Not to mention, Melchior wouldn’t let his friends take any shit from anyone else. They  _ had  _ been inseparable up until this moment when Melchior found out Moritz voted Hanschen’s version of the play. 

“Why in the hell did you vote for Hanschen’s shitty ass love story? Who the fuck wants to see a gay  _ Romeo and Juliet? _ ” Melchior whispered harshly to the other boy.

“I think it’s a cool twist, okay?” Moritz whispered just as harshly back, not quite understanding why it was such a big deal,  _ it was just a high school play. Why did everyone care so much about who’s performing what and who? _

“But I don’t want to do his version and I also don’t want to be split up from you.”

“I don’t have to follow you around everywhere all the time, Melchior,” Moritz gritted, finding his argument silly and weak, “I’m my own person too.”

“But-”

“Just admit that the only reason you don’t want to do Hanschen’s version is because you have some weird, fucked up distaste for gay people, Melchior.”

“No I-”

“You still deny the fact that I like boys. We never talk about my crushes, only yours,” Moritz pointed out, crossing his arms. Maybe he was being too extreme, but he had been waiting to confront Melchior about it and now was the perfect time. 

“That’s not true! And even if it were, why wouldn’t you open up to me first?”

“Because you’ll be weird about it! I know you will!” Moritz cried, increasingly getting louder. “I think maybe I should try going off on my own for a bit,” His head lowered as he swiveled away from Melchior before walking off towards Hanschen’s group. 

  
  
  


“Melchior? You voted for my version?” Ernst questioned as the sandy brunette made his way over towards the left side of the theater. “But I thought you were really good friends with Hanschen?” 

“Being good friends with someone doesn’t mean I have to agree with their stupid ideas,” Melchior reasoned. Ernst nodded, still wide eyed, but the explanation was good enough for him. 

“Alright! We have some work to do, we have to assign roles, completely rewrite an ending to the show, and then learn everything.” Ernst barked at his group. “And since the whole reason why I wanted to do a different version of the show is for the happy ending, we should perform the last act for the competition, therefore making it our main focus. Got it?” He concluded. 

“Yes sir, Mr. Ernst sir,” Ilse jokes, throwing an arm around the small boy. “I volunteer Wendla to play Juliet, since she’s a sweetheart and she deserves the world.”

“Aww, that’s sweet of you,” The raven headed girl giggled at the flirtatious undertones. “And since this was Ernst’s idea, I volunteer him to play my Romeo.” She added. 

“I would be honored.” He beamed. 


	2. To turn your households' rancour to pure love

“Here’s the deal,” Hanschen began to lecture his group (barely giving them a moment to breathe): “I pitched my idea of a gay Romeo and Juliet, but I don’t think we should do a genderbent Juliet, because I want to play around with her character, and she deserved better.” He stated matter-of-factly. Hanschen had always thought Juliet had way more potential; she was smart but unfortunately influenced by a rash and stupid boy. Hanschen wanted to give her a better ending too. Thankfully, no one had any objections; a few in the group even hummed in agreement. “So I think the love story should be between Romeo and Mercutio, because, let’s be honest, he was already gay for Romeo.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Thea laughed, “I mean, I knew they were friends and all, but    
I would  _ not _ fight to the death over maintaining the honor of someone who isn’t me, unless I was deeply in love with them.” Hanschen laughed as well; he had read the play so many times and couldn’t help but think that Mercutio probably had the hots for Romeo. Shakespeare definitely knew what he was doing, but he missed out on the chance to write a fantastic gay love story, which Hanschen was now proud to write instead. 

“Alright then, there we have it! Now we have to figure out who’s playing who, and re-write the whole plot.”

“You make it sound so simple,” Georg scoffed, earning a glare from Hanschen. “What? I think we just need to sit down and discuss the plot before we go assigning characters, because that’s what is most important.”

“Well, I overheard Ernst’s group deciding roles before they even got into the plot,” Martha argued, twisting her braid in her hand, “Which, by the way, I think is rather smart. Finishing the plot may take a while, and waiting to figure out roles until then may make it harder for us to learn lines. If we negotiate our roles first, we can learn the material as we go along.”

“Well, Martha, for contributing to the conversation instead of being critical without actually  _ helping, _ ” Hanschen jabbed at Georg, “I think you have just landed yourself the role of Juliet.”

“It was that easy!” Anna shrieked.

“Wait, Martha, eavesdropping in on Ernst’s group was actually kind of genius,” Thea interrupted, seemingly wanting to curb any potential argument.

“I wasn’t eavesdropping!” Martha flushed, picking at the hem of her sweater. 

“The point still stands though. Hey, I agree, Martha should be the leading lady for being such a fucking genius,” Thea added on. 

Anna leaned into the conversation, stating; “What if Hanschen tried to get close to Ernst so he could get secrets from him?”

“Just being friends isn’t good enough,” Moritz remarked. “The majority of us in this group are friends with Ernst, but we all know he doesn’t confide in anyone but Ilse and Wendla.”

“You’re right,” Thea gasped, throwing her head back and staring up a the ceiling as if the rafters would spell out some other solution. “We could go after Ilse and Wendla instead?”

“Nah, Ilse’s too smart for that. Wendla is too nice, we shouldn’t go messing with her,” Moritz shook his head. “And on top of that, they are both  _ extremely  _ loyal to Ernst.”

“Why doesn’t Hasnchen get Ernst to date him then? He’s naive and soft, he’d trust his hypothetical boyfriend, right?” Anna suddenly contributed after a minute of silent thinking. 

“Anna, I know you’re trying to get genius points, but I don’t think that’s the way to go. Hanschen wouldn’t do that just for some juicy details, he’s too proud of his own work to rely on someone else. Plus, it’s kinda mean, we shouldn’t use Ernst’s innocence against him.” Otto pointed out. 

“Ernst is insufferable. He’s hated me from the get-go, there’s no way he would suddenly like me. Besides, there’s no way I could socialize with him, let alone date him. You said it yourself, he’s naive, and I’d rather be with someone more astute,” The blonde stated before turning back to his yellow notebook to continue writing out the new plot. For someone who hates Ernst, he seemed to observe the boy quite a lot, he knew quite a bit about him from gossiping with Melchior. But it didn’t take much to notice Ernst didn’t hold a lot of presence in a room. Hanschen much preferred someone who would take charge.

“Are you sure? Who knows what we could find out that could help us along the way. I think Anna’s idea was great,” Thea smiled towards the pink cheeked girl. 

“Think about it, Hanschen. And hey, maybe you could get other benefits from dating him.” Anna winked. 

“Alright, fine. I’ll think about it.” The Hanschen groaned, thus earning a giggle from Thea,

“Anna, I guess you were speaking that horny bastard’s language.”

  
  
  


“Ernst, I think the other group is talking about you,” Melitta whispered to the small boy loyally, as if she were a spy who had been scouting out said other group.

“What makes you say that?”

“I heard your name come up in conversation, I couldn't figure out why.”

“Hey, Ernst is a hot piece of ass, who wouldn’t talk about him?” Ilse joked, tossing a glance at the other side of the auditorium.

“Well, if it’s  _ Hanschen _ talking, it can’t be anything good.” Ernst sighed. 

“I wouldn’t think so negatively, Ernst,” Wendla rubbed the small boy's shoulder. “But I do wonder if there is some way that we could listen in on _ their _ plans. It could help us in the future, and Ernst would stop worrying.”

“Yeah dude, if you can become Hanschen’s best friend in the next seventy-two hours. He will not confide in you unless he trusts you with his whole life. You’d have to be his little confidant, but that role’s already taken by Melchior and Moritz.” Ilse cackled. 

“Well, the best way to Hanschen’s heart is through his pants. Ernst should get with him, then he would totally spill everything.” Melchior supplied. He certainly was Hasnchen’s confidant, but he would be willing to betray him if it meant winning the competition. This was the way of the wild Melchior Gabor. 

“No way in hell would I ever sleep with him! I don’t want to sleep with anyone! Especially  _ him _ ,” Ernst frowned.

“Hey, maybe you don’t have to sleep with him, maybe just date him. If you kiss him real good, I bet he would spill everything,” Wendla suggested, flushing slightly at her own words. 

Ernst giggled, blushing slightly at Wendla’s words, but nodded in agreement. “Now  _ that  _ I could tolerate. And as much as I hate him, my acting skills aren’t too horrible.”

“There you go then!” Ilse gave the boy a firm smack on the back. 

“Okay, now that we’re done discussing how to use Ernst as our pawn, I suggest we get to work,” Melchior piped up. 

  
  
  


After working for a solid hour, Hanschen’s group deciding roles and Ernst’s discussing plot, the two teams decided to split up for a break. It probably wasn’t necessary, as there was only so much high school students could focus on for one hour when being around friends. 

“Wendla, can I steal you for a second?” Ernst questioned, sidling up to the vending machine Wendla had been fiddling with for the past 2 minutes.

“Sure thing! What do you need?”

“If I were to get Hanschen to date me, how would I do it? He can’t even stand to look at me.” 

“Three things: one. You aren’t at all required to  _ date _ him just to figure out how to win this silly little competition. Two, he probably won’t look at you because he knows you’re so goddamn cute. And three, since he has a thick skull, you may have to speak his language, if you know what I mean. Be a person he understands better.” Wendla tried her best to give good advice that wasn’t  _ change your whole fucking personality for all eternity.  _

“That seems easy enough,” Ernst nodded.

“Good. But don’t get too carried away, I don’t want you having a whole personality change on us. If it’s just this once to gain information from the enemy side, it’s fine. Like going undercover. But the true Ernst I know is perfect and amazing all on his own, got it?”

“Of course, Wendla. You’re the best,” The brunette grinned, hugging her as thanks. 

  
  
  


There were two times during the day that Hanschen would have the most internal dialogue: when getting dressed or when showering. The internal conversations weren’t always on the most pleasant of topics, but he accepted it as a normal part of his routine. He would argue with himself over politics, what the point of the universe was, but also what he should make for breakfast the next morning because on that particular day he had to leave home early to meet with a teacher, etcetera. This would all be done at a time when he wasn’t trying to relax, as some of the topics could get him worked up or thinking too hard, and relaxing for Hanschen meant thinking of nothing. Thus, he almost never thought of anything while trying to fall asleep. Yet, despite “relaxation time” being inscribed into his brain as a habit, his mind was whirring as fast as his ceiling fan, which he was currently staring at. 

The thinking had obviously not started at his designated “internal monologue time”, which he took note of as he lay beneath the cotton sheets in nothing but his boxers and a white t-shirt with the logo of his favorite summer camp on the front. 

At this particular moment in time, he was thinking of how in the hell he could get someone he hated, and who hated him in return, to suddenly become attracted to him enough to date him. He could try and rely on his looks alone, which seemed like a narcissistic thing to think, but he knew it was true. Most of the boys and girls he’d ever gone out with only dated him for his looks, and he knew it. There were never really any real feelings of affection.

This then sparked another thought: Ernst was not like any other typical schoolmate. As self-absorbed as it sounds, he had never immediately became enamored with Hanschen, unlike most. Ernst knew all along how cocky and arrogant Hanschen could be. 

_ So, then if not for looks, then he could only like me for my personality, _ the blonde realised, shifting from laying on his back to his stomach.  _ If I were to get him to like me, I’d have to be more understanding, more soft spoken...  _ The idea seemed simple enough, but he knew it would be easier said than done. 

_ I’ll figure out the logistics in the morning, when I have more energy,  _ the boy concluded before closing his eyes and allowing himself to drift off peacefully. 

In the morning, he sent a text to Anna, reading:

**_I thought about your idea. I’ll do it._ **

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! these first two chapters have felt relatively short, the rest should get longer, I promise!
> 
> The lovely Junmyeonish beta read this chapter, I encourage y'all to check out some of her work too.
> 
> See you next time!
> 
> <3


	3. O teach me how I should forget to think!

Hanschen was usually a confident person, one who had no trouble at all talking to boys or girls. He just had to lower his eyelids, gazing at them in such a fashion that they would melt right in front of him. He would casually flirt, and with the Rillow charm he would win his victim over. He almost found it fun, as if it were a game he played well. The objective was to woo his target, mess around for a few weeks, and then break up and move onto the next person; none of his relationships had very many strings attached. But this time, his target wasn’t as appealing. 

Sure, what Ernst lacked in personality he made up for with looks. He wasn’t too hard on the eyes, but that was the only kind sentiment that ever crossed Hanschen’s mind when it came to him. And maybe Ernst could be smart sometimes, but he was considerably more stubborn than anyone else he’d ever been acquainted with. He’d had his fair share of argumentative partners, but their arguments were fun, almost playful. Ernst on the other hand, argued to win, not play. Hanschen always thought the short, mouthy boy would be ten times more attractive if he knew when to drop a disagreement.

Hanschen really didn’t want to be the one to make the first move, out of pride, of course, but it looked like that was certainly going to be the case. 

He planned to maybe stop by Ernst’s locker in the morning: all the girls he dated found it romantic for some reason he couldn’t decipher. “Maybe he could try and sit next to him during the one class they shared together, creative writing in seventh period.) But for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to be the initiator. 

He tried looking over in the brunettes direction more, just to get his attention, start to get him thinking, maybe. But either he knew Hanschen was looking at him and was avoiding his gaze, or he just didn’t have the same natural instinct everyone else seemed to have, where one feels another’s gaze on the back of their neck. With every fervent glance, Hanschen felt his distaste for Ernst slowly build and cement further. While passing Ernst in the hallway, he would walk by just a little bit closer, still pointedly staring at the smaller male, but to no avail. 

During lunch, he tried to plan out the easiest way to guarantee Ernst would sit next to him in creative writing. He couldn't get there too early, there were too many available seats. And he couldn’t get there too late, because then there wouldn’t be enough. He tried to remember how many minutes were in between the two bells, and then the late bell. He had to get there somewhere in the middle. Oh, and he would have to remember when Ernst would usually show up as well, maybe try and time it so that he would get there just in time to find two open seats and hopefully have no other appealing opening spots. And so he did get there before Ernst, and there were two open seats at one table, but there was also a seat next to Max. Hanschen felt stupid, of course Ernst wouldn’t willingly sit next to the one person he hates. He gave up by the end of the day, accepting that he would have to initiate some sort of conversation during the next rehearsal on Monday.   
  
  


“I feel like I am acting dumber than usual, but I don’t want to have to actually  _ talk _ to him in order to get his attention.” Hanschen complained to Moritz as they exited the cold brick building that was their school, slowly making their way down to the parking lot, per their usual after school routine. Hanschen and Moritz would stroll to the edge of the parking lot, parting ways as one went to his car and the other to the Seven Eleven down the street. The only thing that felt out of place today was the fact that Hanschen felt like a broken toy, one of those wind up ones like the monkey that bashes the cymbals together. Only now whatever springs that kept the toy going were broken. He had lost his Rillow charm, he guessed.

“Ernst is shy. Even if you have gotten his attention he won’t come up and talk to you unless he has a good reason, especially since you both despise each other for some reason.” The timid boy’s usual hunch in posture exaggerated under the weight of his backpack, which he currently had a death grip on. 

“You’re right. I have to be more upfront with him.” The taller boy groaned, “And I wasted a whole entire day waiting for him to come to me first.” Another check in the  _ Hanschen’s stupidity _ box.

“Not exactly, you still have a chance to talk to him. He hangs out in his car for a few minutes everyday before he leaves, I’m not sure why. You can find him and apologize to him or something. He drives an old red car, I think it’s a Toyota.” Moritz supplied helpfully.

“Thanks.” Hanschen nodded, picking up his pace so as to not miss the opportunity to set his plan in motion. No, the Rillow charm had not worn off, his brain was just cloudier than normal and logic didn’t seem to come naturally at the moment.

  
  
  


Sure enough, Ernst was just getting into the drivers side of an old Toyota Tercel when Hanschen reached the parking lot. 

Uncharacteristically of the blonde, he marched up to the car without forming any sort of conversation starter in his head, laying a hand on the hood of the car.

“Hey.” He greeted lamely.

“Um, hi? Hanschen?” Ernst responded, narrowing his eyes as he sunk further into his seat, door still open. He was obviously confused, rubbing his thumb over his wrist nervously, which seemed to be a nervous habit of his based on Hanschen’s observations. “If you’ve come here to insult my ideas on  _ Romeo and Juliet, _ I’m closing this door.”

“No, don’t be so cynical.” The taller laughed. Ernst didn’t. He was just as uncomfortable as two seconds before. Hanschen bit his lip,  _ (maybe he will think it’s hot? _ ) gears in his head turning for a second before jolting and spitting out: “Actually the opposite. I’m sorry if you felt insulted by what I said yesterday. I am just passionate about representation of the LGBTQ community, and there aren’t many plays written about gay couples.”

“That’s understandable, Hanschen. I admire that. But maybe step away from the car?” Ernst cheeks became a soft pink. “As sweet as it is that you apologized, I kinda need to get home...” He smiled, eyes apologetic. 

“Oh, yes, of course, sorry,” Hanschen backed away, lifting up his hands in surrender. “I’ll see you on Monday. No hard feelings?”

“No hard feelings.” Ernst responded, still not quite won over, but choosing to just pretend to forgive Hanschen would get him away from his comfortable bubble faster. And he would be lying if he said he didn’t appreciate the effort. He shut the door and watched as the blonde sauntered away, still shocked by the interaction. 

Hanschen has never been nice to Ernst. Well, almost never. The only time he was ever nice was when they had first met, back in eighth grade. Hanschen had moved schools after getting caught up in a fight during the previous school year. Sure, it was middle school drama and it was a middle school fight, which meant no one was seriously harmed, but nonetheless Hanschen found his reputation tarnished and moved schools. 

Ernst had witnessed how Hanschen managed to worm his way into the hearts of his circle of friends, but he had also witnessed just how hoity-toity and uppity he could be. He used to brag a considerable amount, but that had quickly become a thing of the past. But he could also hurt others’ feelings without even realising it. Therefore, ever since Ernst had made it clear that Hanshcen was his enemy, the two had not one kind thing to say to each other.

So, needless to say, Ernst was stunned.

Before he drove off, he pulled up Wendla’s number on his phone, pressing the icon to call her and then setting it in the cup holder beside him. It didn’t take long for her to pick up.

“Ernst? Whats up?”

“Wendla, the weirdest shit was happening to me today. First of all, I know for a fact Hanschen was staring at me for no reason today. Then he  _ apologizes _ to me because he didn’t want me to be upset over our argument yesterday?”

“Ah, maybe he was talking about you yesterday because he has a crush on you! It wouldn’t surprise me if he had the old kindergarten boy logic of ‘be mean to the girl you like’. Well, in this case, you’re a boy. But it would make sense!”

“Huh, I never thought of it that way.” Ernst hummed.

“Maybe it won’t be so difficult to get him to date you after all. And hey, if you wanted to give him an extra nudge in the right direction, I can call up Ilse and have her take you to the mall and give you a little makeover!”

“That would be fun, sure. I’m close to her house anyways, just text her real quick and I’ll swing by and pick her up, she should have driven home by now.” Ernst agreed, turning his car back around towards the direction of Ilse’s house. 

“Cool! I’ll see you on Monday, then!” The rather chipper girl gushed before hanging up, leaving Ernst to concentrate better on driving.    
  
  


Ilse’s house was a small but fun looking little building towards the center of the town, near the school . It was her grandmother’s; she moved in after being kicked out of the house in middle school. It was also close to Ernst’s house, making it an easier commute for him than to any of his other friends' houses.

It was a charming white with black shutters, almost like a cottage. The paint was always well kept despite the house being on the older side. On the front porch hung a wooden swing, which was a popular hangout spot for the girl and her company. Ernst pulled into the driveway, Ilse’s car already parked on the lawn. He sent her a quick text, exited the car and waited for her on the porch.

She never took too long to answer the door, always happy to have friends over. 

And when the door swung open wide, the comforting smell of cinnamon and baking washed over Ernst, (most likely because there almost always  _ was  _ something baking), accompanied by the welcoming smile that played across Ilse’s lips, which were still stained a muted plum after a whole day of wear. The mixture of the heavenly scent and the warmth of her smile mixed together to create a calming atmosphere.

“You  _ no  _ how excited I am to give you a makeover, as much as I love your current style.” She grinned almost wolfishly. 

“Thanks.” The brunette smiled back, not exactly sure what to say in response to her statement.

“Shall we take my car?” The pixie haired girl asked, already halfway out the door. Ernst hummed in agreement.    
  
  


Much like her house, Ilse’s car always smelled like baked goods or fresh linen, depending on what air fresheners she was using. Ernst would never pass up a chance to ride along with her. They never talked during their car rides, only listened to music. Ernst would stare out the window. He did not enjoy car rides with Ilse for conversations, but it was simply because she played good music and her presence in the driver's seat was comforting. The excursion was peaceful, but Ernst felt almost nervous as they pulled into the parking lot of the mall. 

Ernst was never one to do things outside of his comfort zone, and he knew this, but he still tried to convince himself that the energy thrumming throughout his entire body was just excitement. Excitement for spending time with Ilse, even if he did see her practically every hour of the day. Excitement to give his wardrobe a slight makeover, even though he was perfectly comfortable in his everyday look of pastel colored jeans, sweaters, and button-ups. 

God, why was he doing this again? 

He considered just giving up now, before he ends up making a fool of himself. He would look stupid going into Hot Topic, and he would look stupid trying to impress a boy he didn’t even like and who hadn’t been nice to him  _ ever  _ up until about an hour and a half ago. But Ernst wasn’t the most assertive person either. Refusing to do this might not disappoint Ilse and Wendla, (the only two whose opinions actually mattered to Ernst), but he would be letting down his whole group. And what would Ilse say about worrying over what strangers think of him? He knew he shouldn’t care, other’s opinions don’t matter. 

Ilse broke the silence by opening the drivers door, the click punctuating the void of still air. 

“You coming?”

Ernst had decided his fate.

He took a shaky breath, pushing out of the car like he tried to push away the feeling of uneasiness festering inside his stomach, pinging around like moths trying to get out of a lamp shade they’ve trapped themselves in. 

Ilse could see the worry on his face and tried to smooth it away by rubbing his shoulder. 

“Relax, the mall won’t eat you.” She joked, taking the lead as they traveled through the mall parking lot.   
  
  


It didn’t take long for Ilse to start piling clothes into Ernst's obediently open arms. It took only four minutes, to be precise, only four, after entering Pacsun. In those four minutes, Ilse stopped to marvel at clothes she wanted for herself, shook her head, and traveled towards the back where the men's section was. Then, she inspected her options, and started rifling through jeans first. 

“I never understood why anyone would buy jeans with holes already in them.” Ernst muttered, sliding his finger along the frayed edge of a hole on the fifth pair of black jeans Ilse handed him.

“I don’t know, for some reason people like them. And I bet you’ll look hot as fuck in them.” She responded, now moving on to look at sweaters. She pulled down a few darker colored graphic crewnecks, studied them, and moved onto loose-flowing collared shirts. 

“Do you want more blue or black shirts?” She questioned, tilting her head to the side like a puppy.

“Blue,” Ernst decided, eyeing a deep blue shirt at the top of Ilse’s pile that looked soft. “By the way, what kind of aesthetic are we going for here?”

“I think you’d look smokin’ as an e-boy.” Ilse wiggled her eyebrows.

“Really? An e-boy?”

“Hey, I know Hanschen better than you think. I know what gets him going.” She laughed. 

“I’ll take your word for it.” Ernst laughed, but he fully trusted her. 

After a minute of gathering enough merchandise to make Ernst’s credit card die of an aneurysm, Isle picked up one pack of both black and white fitted socks. 

“We can get the rest, you know, the basics and shit at either Forever 21 or Hot Topic,” Isle explained, taking half of the clothing in the brunette's arms. “I’ll pay.”

“Ilse, no! That’s too much! You work too hard to spend everything on me .” Ernst pleaded, voice slightly hushed. He knew how hard she worked at the local McDonald's, slaving away whenever she wasn’t at school or doing homework. And he always felt guilty for taking his friends money, they were always willing to lend him an extra dollar or two to pay for lunch if he was shot on money for that week. He would try to pay for treats on group excursions, but Ilse was never afraid to tackle Ernst if it meant she could spare him the loss of money.

“No way, man. This is fun. I’m having fun, and I don’t want you spending a shit ton of money on stuff you may not even end up wearing after you’re done with this whole ordeal.”

“How about we split the money? I’ll pay for half, and you pay for the rest. That way we both win. And if I don’t like it, when I’m done I’ll let you have whatever you pay for. I know you love men's fit over women's.” Ernst negotiated, knowing Ilse wouldn’t let him pay for all the clothes without him losing an arm or an eye first. “Oh, and you should try everything on at my house so I can give you style tips or some shit,” She added, glancing at him over her shoulder.

“Alright, that works for me.” The taller beamed.    
  
  


And that is exactly how Ernst wound up in Ilse’s bedroom, examining himself in her tall mirror, decked out in a black graphic crew neck sweater, the white collar of a shirt underneath poking out, outfit complete with a silver chain on the belt loops and a few silver rings decorating his fingers. He didn’t feel too ridiculous; Ilse really did know what she was doing. Her choice of clothing items complimented his body type, it wasn’t just random clothes that looked nice on the rack but would make him look like a toddler playing dress up once the clothes were actually on his body. 

“Oh hell yeah, add a bit of black eyeliner and Hanschen will have a boner right on sight.” Ilse marveled at the small boy as he spun around to face away from her mirror. 

“Isn’t that maybe a bit extra?” Ernst asked, slightly flushed. If people weren’t already spreading rumors about his sexuality, they definitely would now

“Nah, you need to grab that dumbasse’s attention. I swear to god, he can act like he’s such an intellectual but he can be a complete idiot too.” Right, Ernst nodded. Ilse was correct, he didn’t seem to be the brightest when it came to feelings or love, judging from his friend’s gossip. And of course, once again, he had to remind himself: other’s opinions shouldn’t matter to him. “Oouh, and maybe a bit of perfume or cologne, so when you get close to him he’ll get intrigued or whatever.”

“My mom will either faint or yell at me when she sees this.” Ernst sighed, completely ignoring Ilse’s suggestion, as another potential conflict popped up in his mind. 

“So then don’t get dressed until you’re about to drive to school, and run out of the house real quick. Easy peasy,” Ilse smiled. “Wendla and I both will be in your corner, you got this.”

“Right. And I can back out at any time?” Ernst re-affirmed. The pixie haired girl nodded in response. 

Ernst smiled, grabbed the clothes he came in, and backed into Ilse’s closet to change back into his good old normal self.

What the fuck was he getting himself into? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh I almost forgot to update today but I did it!!!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed, thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Once again, I thank Junmyeonish for beta-reading and dealing with my stupid mistakes :')
> 
> See you next time <3


	4. That which we call a rose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a TW, there are very brief mentions of homophobia in this chapter, but it isn't too detailed. I just thought I should put a warning anyways :)

Ernst knew that he shouldn't be as nervous as he was. Deep down, he knew no one paid enough attention to him to care about a simple style change. That only happened in shitty Disney Channel movies, the ones that follow the exact same formula of  _ social outcast suddenly becomes cool and hip and gets the guy both she and the most popular girl in school have a crush on _ .

But this wasn’t a Disney Channel movie, this was real life, and since this was real life Ernst had to think realistically. Having thought out a whole argument paper in his head in order to convince him  _ no one of importance to you is going to care,  _ he was no longer worried about that aspect. No, Ernst was worried about other things.

He was mostly worried about Hanschen’s reaction; he feared that since Hanschen was smarter than the average bear (he would give him that) and Ernst was deciding to  undergo a huge vagar y , he was bound to link the appearance change to some sort of cry for attention. Hanschen was too smart to just brush it aside as a rash decision, he would most definitely figure out what Ernst was plotting. 

But it was two minutes before Ernst had to leave for school and there was no way in hell he could back out now. So, standing in front of his mirror, he checked to make sure everything was tucked as it should be and that his plethora of rings were stacked on his fingers in such a way that didn’t make them look clustered. He won’t deny it, he _ does _ look attractive. 

Of course, he still looked frail as ever, and his face still was a frosty pale shade (which, to his slight discomfort, is emphasized by the dark clothes), but the jeans accentuate his legs nicely and the overall aesthetic makes him feel more badass. But yet he felt like maybe something was missing- _ what did Ilse say? _

_ Oh, right, eyeliner _ .

Ilse had given him a small tube of pencil eyeliner on the way out of her house on Friday, and Ernst only practiced once that same night and then forgot about it up until now. Granted, he was satisfied with how it looked on Friday, so the thought of having to practice again was pushed out of his mind to make room for other worries plaguing him. 

Ernst almost surprised himself at how fast he was able to add just the right amount of eyeliner, but then again, he didn’t do anything too fancy, just enough to highlight his eyes. Before leaving his room, he mussed up his hair the tiniest bit, as his normally neatly combed and gelled hair style would not at all match his current aesthetic. Satisfied, he dashed downstairs and out the front door, avoiding the gaze of his mother and  _ especially _ his father.

Yes, Ernst had originally thought his one obstacle would be his mother, seeing as from a young age she tried to get her cute little son to dress in more clean looking clothes, and he thought his father would like his change for something less  _ girly _ , but he realised his father would most definitely not approve of even the tiniest bit of eyeliner, and his mother wasn’t nearly as scary as him. There was homophobia deeply rooted in his bloodline, Ernst being the exception. Or maybe there were secretly gay members of his family who were forced to stay in the closet out of fear, like Ernst. From a young age, Ernst had heard his father constantly slander the LGBT community. Hence, Ernst was terrified when he started becoming attracted to boys. He knew his family loved him, but as soon as they suspected that he may be gay, he had no doubt his life at home would take a turn for the worst. 

Relieved to have escaped the scrutiny of his father, he sat in his old Toyota to catch his breath. He sent a quick selfie to Wendla and Ilse, hoping to get maybe a few words of encouragement. After a second of checking his appearance, he began his drive to the dreaded school.

  
  
  
  


Of course, as anticipated, nobody batted an eyelash at Ernst’s sudden change in appearance. Walking through the halls was uneventful, and the small brunette had yet to see Hanschen. But even at the end of the hallway he could already see Ilse and Wendla’s head bobbing up and down in excitement, searching for him. As he got closer, he smiled and waved, which was met by a little squeal of excitement. 

“Ernst! Oh my god, Ilse did  _ such _ a good job styling you!” Wendla gushed, examining the boy down to the small details, grabbing his hand to stare at the little silver rings decorating his fingers. 

“ _ And  _ Ernst pulls it off well, Wendla.” Ilse jabbed the shorter girl lightly in the ribs.

“Oh, right, of course! Ernst, you look gorgeous, dare I say sexy.” She wiggled her eyebrows. 

“Thanks, both of you.” He hugged Wendla, the scent of fresh baked blueberry muffins drifting around her. 

  
  
  
  


The first time during the school day that Ernst and Hanschen would definitely cross paths was lunch. Normally, Hanschen would not take that much notice of the fact that they were separated, but he definitely realized how long it was when he actually wanted to get the boys attention. The only exception to today was, instead of Hanschen trying to get Ernst’s attention, Ernst caught Hanschen’s.

Now, for someone who seemed to hate Ernst, Hanschen did spend quite a long time studying the boy: how he talked, how he dressed, how he moved. He told himself the only reason he paid so much attention to him was because every little detail he noticed was one more thing to hate about him. His infuriating presence would draw Hanschen’s eye like a dog watches a cat, frothing with hatred. 

From the soft, pastel palette he wore to how soft spoken he could be, the airy tone of his voice, to the delicate movements he would make. It made him so fragile, so innocent... Hanschen  _ hated _ it. He thought it babyish, and besides that, he knew Ernst wasn’t always as innocent as he seemed. He could be just as cynical and annoying as Hanschen, and he knew it. Maybe he didn’t see displays of this behavior all the time, but  _ come on.  _ There was no way he was nice all the time. 

Therefore, Hanschen got whiplash when he saw the small boy waltz into the cafeteria in an outfit that would make whore-ish e-boys jealous. Granted, he pulled it off shockingly well. Yes, Ernst’s face was usually softer, but the darker colors of his current ensemble brought out his jaw, the sleek and yet still soft line. The black jeans he wore brought out the slimness of his legs, making them appear slightly longer. 

Oh _ fuck _ , he actually looked  _ good _ . 

Hanschen was willing to let himself admit that, but it didn’t make up for the fact that Ernst seemed to hold an awfully big grudge on him for probably no reason. No, Ernst was still definitely not what everyone thought him to be, Hanschen was sure of it. 

Hanschen shook the thought of Ernst away until after school when rehearsal began. Like the last rehearsal, each group split up on their own respective sides of the auditorium. Yet again, Hanschen’s cheeks reddened slightly when he caught sight of Ernst as he entered, Wendla on his arm. 

The last rehearsal had been productive for Hanschen’s group: they had spent some time deciding who played what character. Hanschen had been chosen to play Mercutio, which he was pleased with. Moritz played Romeo and Martha did indeed decide to accept her role as Juliet. They had begun discussing the plot, how to change the whole story to fit Hanschen’s idea better. The little bits still needed to be ironed out, but he considered the first rehearsal to be successful, leaving him off in a good place to start the next time. 

Only now, Hanschen couldn’t focus at all. He didn’t even know where to start, and in his own state of stress he couldn’t muster the strength to stop the idle chatter of his other classmates. Well, actually, he did know where to start:  _ he needed to rewrite a whole ass play in Elizabethan English _ , but he did not have enough brain power to focus on writing _ and _ plotting on how in the hell he could make the next step in getting Ernst to date him. Well, that and figure out why in the hell Ernst would pull a complete 180 and suddenly become an e-boy wannabe. 

Luckily for him, Moritz could see his internal struggle.

“Hanschen?” The jet haired boy gently tapped his shoulder, “You seem tense, what’s wrong?” He continued, pulling Hanschen away from the group.

“What do I do now? I think I planted a little seed of interest in Ernst’s mind, I talked to him on Friday, but now what?”

“Oh, that would explain why he stopped dressing so soft, he’s probably trying to impress you. Whatever you did worked.” Moritz smiled, patting his shoulder.

“But where do I go from here?”

“Maybe try creating a situation where you have to spend more time together? Talk to him, try to get a little relationship going.” He suggested, shrugging before wandering back over to the group of teens. 

Well, shit. The advice was enough to get gears turning in Hanschen’s head, but even still he had to finish processing ideas on his own. 

The small discussion did however clear away enough mental junk to allow the blonde to gather himself together and close up rehearsal; he managed to write a different version of the party scene with the help of Thea and Anna. After everyone had left, Hanschen decided to stick around afterwards to pick up chairs, trash, and other miscellaneous items in order to both stay on Director Freidrich’s good side and also allow him to talk one-on-one with Ernst, who had gone off towards the bathroom and would have to come back to the auditorium to gather his belongings. 

Hanschen made sure to take his time cleaning, and sure enough, Ernst came back for his school bag. 

“Hey.” The blonde called from his stack of chairs, lifting one more on top of the pile. Ernst whipped around, surprised at first, but he softened after realising that it was a person calling out to him and not a theater ghost. 

“Oh, Hanschen! Let me help you.” The smaller boy offered, rushing to help lift up the other side of the chairs legs. Hanschen gave him a weird look, but quickly wiped it away and continued hoisting up another chair.

“Why are you so nice all the time?” Hanschen questioned, trying to sound as genuine as possible.

“It just seems like a natural thing to do, I’m not sure I guess.” He smiled softly, to which Hanschen thought  _ bullshit. _ He didn’t know anyone in his life who was as nice as Ernst for seemingly no reason; everyone had a motive that only benefited themselves. Altruism was a myth. 

“It seems like it’s something that’s hard to maintain, you know, the happy facade. You always seem so positive.” Hanschen added.

“I guess it’s my mom who inspires me, you see-” He began, inhaling as if to explain, but his face froze as another idea seemed to cross his mind. “Nevermind. I guess, the reason why I actively try to be a good person is because I’ve always wanted to be as caring as my mom.” Ernst flushed slightly. 

_ That’s super fucking cheesy, _ Hanschen scoffed internally. But instead of expressing his thoughts out loud, he simply said; “Wow, that's...a very nice sentiment, Ernst.” 

_ Jesus, yeah. What a fucking sentamentalist,  _ he thought, but a part of him recognized the gesture as sweet. A little tiny piece of Hanschen’s heart had definitely thawed, much to his distaste. Maybe not everyone had bad motives. Hanschen knew he had to stop generalizing so much.

Still, he was not about to let his guard down only to possibly be fucked over by the mousy little shit. 

“Well, I’ll see you again later.” Ernst awkwardly waved goodbye, leaving the blonde to stand next to the pile of chairs and wallow in his own thoughts. 

_ And _ he still had to  _ finnish _ cleaning up leftover trash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading!
> 
> I posted a little early because 1.) I am currently not at my house and I will be busy this weekend camping, so I thought it best to post now 2.) it felt like it had been forever since I last posted a chapter and I had edited this chapter a few days ago but didn't think to post it???? anywho, per usual, Junmyeonish beta-red because she is an angel. 
> 
> Until next time!
> 
> <3


	5. Through Yonder Window

For the first time in Hanschen’s high school career, he walked to school.

Many students did if they didn’t have a car or a ride or hated the bus. Hanschen  _ did _ hate the bus, but that wasn’t why he was walking. And sure, he had a perfectly good car waiting for him in the driveway back at home, gifted to him by his father since the man didn’t know how else to show his affection for his son. No, it didn’t need repairs, it didn’t have a flat tire. Oh no, he was walking to school because he was convinced by his friends that in order for him to write a successful play, he needed to draw secrets from his rival, instead of relying on his talent alone. That meant asking for a ride home because he didn’t have his car, and that meant more time to build a relationship with Ernst.

So yes. Hanschen was walking to school. And he hated it. 

Luckily, when he arrived at the front entryway, he wasn’t too gross or sweaty; thank god for antiperspirant. But every calorie he consumed at breakfast had now been burnt, and he now had to rely on what little strength he had left to carry him through the day until lunch, counting the minutes as his hand struggled to shakily write notes and his eyes blurred every line of text in  _ The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn _ . His brain had barely enough fuel to even transport him to the cafeteria. It was  _ horrible. _

Hanschen accepted the fact that he didn’t always eat with friends. It was an interchangeable cycle of people that sat at his table: sometimes Melchior, Thea, Anna, and Moritz all sat with him. Sometimes Ilse joined them. Sometimes it was half the amount of people in his friend group. Sometimes it was only Moritz. On this particular day, a Tuesday, he sat alone. That was, until he felt the presence of someone settling down across from him. Ernst. 

He seemed timid, he shrunk in on himself but didn’t move from his spot. A single sword-shaped earring dangled from his left ear, accentuating his neck. He held a blue-lidded container in one hand, the other picking at the edge of the table nervously.

“Hi.” He greeted shyly.

“Oh, hello, Ernst. How was your night after rehearsal?” Hanschen asked sweetly after he took a moment to compose himself from the initial shock.

“It was fine, I had a good meal, grilled chicken.” The brunette’s smile faded, but he tried to gesture casually to the container of leftovers in his hand.

“Nice.” Hanschen smiled. As suave as he would like to think he is, he had no fucking clue how to hold a conversation with Ernst. But after a second or two of both teens eating in silence, Hanschen suddenly remembered the whole reason he walked to school.

“So, Ernst, I know this might be a weird question, but would it be too much of a hassle to give me a ride home from school? I’m kinda desperate...”

“Uh, sure… dude. I don’t have anything I need to do this afternoon.” The brunette stated, not looking up from his food, but Hanschen could see the tips of his ears turning a shade of pink.

“Thank you so much.” He gushed, trying to lace his voice with fondness without sounding too sickly sweet. 

Damn, being polite and nice could be hard sometimes. Sure, Hanschen was always polite to adults, but being polite to his peers was a whole other issue. Especially being nice to people who seem to hate you. 

The two didn’t talk about much else. Hanschen was  _ very _ much saved by the bell.  _  
  
_

Across the cafeteria, Ilse sat by Wendla at their usual lunch spot, minus Ernst. 

“Wendla, do you think it’s weird that Hanschen was talking about Ernst behind his back and suddenly starts to be suspiciously nice to him a day later? Or is that just me?” Ilse questioned, tucking a half consumed party size bag of lays potato chips in her backpack.

“I would like to think that maybe Hasnchen realized he had a crush on Ernst and is trying to ask him out, but we all know that’s unlikely.” Wendla sighed.

“I would like to think that too, but you’re right. Something tells me there’s something else happening…”

“Well, regardless of if there’s ‘something else’’ or whatever, at least they’ve both stopped fighting during rehearsal.” Wendla joked, rising from her seat at the table as more and more students began to file back into the hallway. 

“It’s too coincidental that Hanschen would just happen to have the same idea as us, right?” Ilse speculated, cocking her head to the side in thought. 

“What else could motivate him to be so nice for no reason?”

“Ah, he may not be using Ernst for secrets, but he may just want a piece of that Robel ass. Especially after we decked him out in e-boy shit.”

“You’re right. I don’t think it’ll be an issue, as long as Ernst keeps his head on straight and stays smart with his strategy.”

“Right. And there’s no way he would actually sleep with that blonde piece of shit,” Ilse cackled, tossing an arm around Wendla. “If things get worse, we should tell him. I don't want to see him get hurt, but we are on a roll here.”

“Right. We’re so close to our target...” Wendla murmured, flipping imaginary spy shades down her face as the pair continued down the hallway. 

_  
  
  
_

Moritz had been avoiding Melchior for less than a week, but the missing presence felt like a gigantic hole in his life. Usually, the two would spend the weekend reading at the Gabor residence, under a sizable oak tree in the backyard. But Moritz had ignored Melchior’s texts all weekend, as much as it pained him. 

There were other absences since he stopped talking to Melchior too. More space beside him in the hallways, one less person at his lunch table; and since Melchior didn’t drive him to school for the past two mornings and he didn’t wish to be a burden to any of his other friends, he had to take the bus. The bus, that was filled with an obnoxious mix of middle schooler's and high school students who couldn’t drive yet, could drive but couldn’t afford a car, or didn’t have some other mode of transportation to school. It was a hellscape. 

But of course, Moritz missed his best friend too. 

Normally, his go to person to talk to was Melchior. But he couldn’t go to Melchior and say:  _ Guess what? My best friend who is the only person I confide in has some unresolved issues with gay people and I don’t know what to do about it, _ because Melchior  _ was  _ the person in question. Well, that, and Moritz refused to talk to him. 

Moritz had begun to grapple with the fact that he hadn’t talked to his best friend in a total of ninety-six hours by Tuesday, when he had to wash his hands after lunch because while throwing away his trash he touched the side of the grimy cafeteria trash can. And while entering the bathroom, he crossed paths with none other than the very person he had been so careful to avoid. 

“Moritz!” Melchior gasped after locking eyes with him.

“Shit.” Was all he could reply with, backing out of the doorway swiftly. 

“Wait, Moritz! I need to talk to you!” Melchior called out desperately.

Moritz decided he could do one of two things: sprint out of the bathroom and ignore his best friend for god knows how long and possibly never fix their relationship; or have a mature conversation and discuss how to fix everything. Had Moritz had more time he would have weighed his options for a bit longer and maybe chosen the first idea, but he was currently in a school bathroom and needed to wash his hands so he might as well stay and choose the more mature choice. So he backed away from the door and allowed Melchior to turn off the faucet, quickly shake his hands dry, and explain himself.

“Moritz, I know there’s no excuse for excluding you from discussions that should have been held to not just help me, but also help you. You’re my friend and I’m yours, and you should be able to trust me and confide in me. I haven’t hosted a safe environment for you,” The taller boy rambled, trying his best to hold eye contact with Moritz. 

Moritz had to sit for a second to grapple with the word vomit. 

“Melchi… that’s very mature of you to realize…” Moritz started, searching for what else to say.

“I started doing my research. I want to know more about your experiences, how you feel. I’m so willing to listen to you. I realize a lot of shit I’ve said and done was homophobic, and I’m trying so hard to learn from it. From now on, I’ll talk with you. I’ll try and listen. I promise, and I’m sorry.” Melchior finished. 

Much more relieved, Moritz softened and smiled. “I know you always try your best to fix your mistakes. I’ll accept your apology,” He said softly. 

“Thank fuck,” The other boy let out a breath and gathered the shorter into his arms for a hug. “I hate not being able to talk to you, or read with you.” He sighed into Melchior’s shoulder. 

“God yes, not talking with you has been torture. Who’s going to tell me to stop overthinking?” Moritz joked.

“Speaking of talking and socializing, I’m glad I got to talk to you because Bobby Mahler is holding a party this Friday and I wouldn’t want to go without you.” Melchior stated, patting his friend’s shoulder.

“Of course I’ll go, I’m the only one I trust to take care of you when you get too drunk.” Moritz laughed, waving goodbye as Melchior left, leaving him to finally wash the grimy trash germs off his hands. 

As he scrubbed the webbing of his fingers, an idea crossed his mind. After drying his hands, he fished his old Samsung out of his back pocket to shoot a quick text to Hanschen, reading: 

**_Bobby Mahler is holding a party this friday, you should ask Ernst to go with you, maybe ask him out or smthin_ **

_  
  
  
_

Ernst didn’t know what the fuck he was doing.

Calling Hanschen  _ dude? _ How the fuck does one speak the language of the mystical Hanschen Rillow in order to get him to fall in love with one? He knew Hanschen was more gruff and not always the nicest person, but he was intelligent. How could Ernst channel that into his own persona? He didn’t know, so to try and fix his current spell of being unable to think, he slammed his head on the steering wheel of his car, because that’s what one did when confused. He was beginning to feel quite relaxed, really feeling the vibe from the leather wheel, when a knock on the passenger side window shook him from his haze. He yelped, but let out a quick breath of relief when he saw it was only Hanschen and not an ax wielding murderer who decided to casually enter the school parking lot and target only him. 

But oh fuck. It was  _ Hanschen. _

Reluctantly, he let the blonde into the passenger seat. 

“You okay, Ernst?” He asked, slight amusement laced his tone. 

“Uhm, yes, you just scared me is all.” He replied, fiddling with the rear view mirror. 

“I won’t bite.” He joked. Ernst sighed, turned on the radio and started to pull out of his parking space once he heard Hanschen’s seat belt click.

“What’s your address?” Ernst asked as Arianna Grande’s  _ Greedy _ played somewhat quietly in the background. 

“100 Granite Street. Arianna Grande? Really?” Hanschen laughed.

_ “What? _ What would you prefer?”

“Oh, sorry, I don’t mean to insult, I just wouldn’t peg you as an Arianna Grande person. And The Beatles or The Fugees are more my speed.” He supplied.

“Ah, that's the stuff my mom and dad listen to.” Ernst tittered. 

“Hey, it’s good stuff, I don’t blame your parents.” Hanschen smiled warmly. “But now I know a little bit more about you.”

“Other than the stuff you find annoying about me?” Ernst responded, deciding to be blunt. Hanschen likes people who are straightforward, right? But was calling him out the best choice? He wasn’t sure, so he looked over at the blonde, who seemed to be thinking deeply. 

“Maybe it’s not that I think you’re annoying. I guess I just find it hard to believe that someone could be so nice for seemingly no reason.” He answered. 

“Oh,” A realization hit Ernst, “that’s why you asked how I could be so nice all the time.”

“Yes, I was thinking about a fresh start. I don’t want to argue anymore. And you gave me a valid reason, so I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt.”

“That's… unlike you, Hanschen. I’m proud of you.” Ernst softened as they pulled into Hanschen’s driveway. The car grew silent, Hanschen was thinking about whatever, but Ernst was marveling at the beautiful pristine house that lay before him. It dawned upon him that even though he was often dragged out to parties with Ilse, had never been to one of Hanschen’s. And having no other excuse to see the Rillow estate, he had yet to visit Hanschen’s home. He pulled up carefully in the driveway, leaving extra room for the expensive looking car parked in front of the garage. 

“Before I go, I thought I should let you know that Bobby Mahler’s throwing a party this Friday, since his parents won’t be home this weekend. You should come.” Hanschen explained, tossing a smile in Ernst’s direction before smoothly leaving the car. 

_ Well, speaking of parties,  _ the brunette thought, 

_ I guess I have one to go to this weekend.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeez y'all, I'm sorry this chapter took longer to come out, as school comes closer my posts are going to be more sporadic than I had originally planned, but never fear! The fic is finished, it's now just a matter of editing and posting which takes forever on my old laptop :/ Also I apologize if it takes a bit for me to get around and reply to comments, y'all are lovely and so sweet but I am kind of shy and awkward irl, which unfortunately carries over into my online personality as well :,). Thank you so much for reading, the next update should come out on Sunday :)
> 
> Oh, and as always, Junmyeonish was my editor :)
> 
> See you Sunday!
> 
> <3


	6. Thus With A Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to be safe and put a TW for underage drinking, and some little references to sex, nothing too bad I don't think, but better safe than sorry!

Hanschen didn’t really understand what drew him to high school parties. 

They were loud, the music would numb his ears less than an hour in and the visuals were just as noisy at the music. Harsh lights were hard for Hanschen to adjust to. They were too crowded, the large groups of people breathing out carbon dioxide would warm the air and create an atmosphere swampier than a Florida night in July. The air had a certain smell too: sweat, cheap beer, shitty cologne or perfume, and sometimes a hint of weed. And of course, there were the drunk teens you had to watch out for. They would either grind on anyone within arms length or regurgitate whatever drink they had downed moments before on an unsuspecting passer-by. Thus, Hanschen took extra precautions not to wear anything he cared about, which explained the whole side of his closet that was dedicated to party clothes only. 

Yet; Hanschen still went to practically every party he was invited to. Maybe it was the possibility of a somewhat fulfilling one-night-stand that appealed to him. If the sex was good enough, it would distract him from the fact that he had to go through a painful two hours of partying to get to it. Somehow, parties drew Hanschen in like a moth to a flame. 

This Friday night was no exception, even though after three years of going to parties with the same formula that all ended in the same way, his enthusiasm had yet to wear away. Sure enough, walking up the steps of Bobby Malher’s porch he could already smell the cheap booze and the volume of the music rattled his jaw. The door was wide open, revealing a sweaty mass of teens dancing in a rather lewd manner. But this was typical. Hanschen already felt exhausted. 

He was almost glad to spot Ernst sitting on the staircase, red solo cup in hand. He happened to look up at just the right time, spotting Hanschen and waving him over.

Hanschen noticed that for someone who is usually so uptight, Ernst, who was decked out once more in black jeans and a loose flowing button up shirt, seemed much more relaxed. His shoulders (which were usually tense) were lowered and he looked as placid as a kitten. Hanschen placed his bets that the liquid courage in the smaller boy’s cup had already smoothed out any nerves. 

“There you are.” Ernst crooned once Hanschen was in earshot. His eyelids sat heavy, and a light flush crossed his cheeks as he smiled sweetly, looking up at Hanschen through his eyelashes. Yep, definitely the alcohol. 

“Ernst. Hi. I didn’t think you’d actually come.” Hanschen greeted, leaning on the banister. 

“Without my mother around to watch and fret over me, this is the one place I allow myself to break the rules.” He gestured to the cup. Oh, yeah, that made sense, even if it was still so out of character for the boy, who was usually a goody-two-shoes.

“Such a bad boy.” Hanschen teased, causing Ernst to scoff and throw his head back. 

“Come, sit next to me so we can watch people do dumb shit.” Ernst patted the step beside him. 

“Oh, is that what you do at these things?”

“It makes me feel superior,” Ernst laughed, “I could get just as drunk as those flailing idiots and I could compose myself better.” At that, it was Hanschen’s turn to scoff.

“That’s not the sweet and kind Ernst I hear everyone talk about.”

“I guess you were right. It’s hard being nice all the time.” The brunette leaned back on the step behind him. “Now shush, let’s watch.” 

As Hanschen settled in beside the shorter, the scent of peppermint, eucalyptus, and something woodsy washed over him as Ernst shifted a little closer. It contrasted from the harsh stench that came with the whole package of parties. It was comforting, and Hanschen too let his shoulders drop as he leaned closer to Ernst. 

Sure enough, not even two minutes after observing the crowd, the two boys spotted their first source of entertainment of the night. 

“Watch him.” Ernst chuckled, pointing to a lanky boy swaying as he tried to talk to a girl in a tight skirt and a  _ Thrasher  _ crop top.

“I bet you five dollars he spills his drink on her.” Hanschen laughed.

“I bet you five dollars he falls over in the next forty seconds, judging by the way he’s standing.” Ernst whispered and leaned closer to Hanschen’s ear. His breath, warm and minty, brushed the shell of his ear. He shivered. 

“Sure.” Hanschen agreed. But sure enough, at least half the cup ends up all over the front of the girls shirt. 

“Awh, damn, you win.” Ernst chuckled. 

“Hey, watch those two over there.” Hanschen pointed across the room at two more unsuspecting party-goers. He felt quite settled into the feeling of actually conversing with Ernst instead of arguing. He wouldn’t lie, he might have actually started to enjoy Ernst’s presence. 

“You mean dingus and dorkus over there?” Ernst pointed to a pair of boys who busied themselves by smoking a blunt, high as balls.

“Yup.” Hanschen smiled. 

“What kind of crazy shit do you think they’re gonna pull?”

“I don’t know man, I think they’ll be the two guys who fall asleep and get abandoned and will have to be dragged out of Bobby’s house tomorrow morning.” Hanschen remarked.

“Ah, yeah, there’s always at least two of those.” Ernst agrees thoughtfully. They watch the boys for a few more minutes, but nothing else happened after that. Hanschen just let himself marinate in the warmth of the house and the clean scent of Ernst.   
  
  


Moritz had been drinking a significant amount of a mysterious mix of alcohol that burned his throat and sinuses. But other than that, he felt amazing. The mixture had warmed his insides and slowed the shakiness of his hands. He had drank a few times before; but he never really enjoyed it, not until that moment. Not until now when some cute boy who he had not seen around school before kept handing him cup after cup of alcohol. He probably went to the school one town over or maybe got dragged into the house off the sidewalk; high school parties were never really limited to just the people who were invited. 

Moritz  _ had  _ been having a good time, he sipped on wine coolers or whatever else was handed to him, locking eyes with a gorgeous stranger. Until Melchior showed up and snatched his cup out of his hand.

“No more for you, Moritz.” He scolded, taking a sip of the stolen drink.

“You’re one to talk, I’m not the only one getting sloshed.” Moritz groaned like a child being disciplined by his mother. 

“You are such a lightweight. And the whole reason why you came was to make sure I don’t do dumb shit while drunk.” Melchior scolded again. 

“Okay,  _ mom _ .” 

“God, I did  _ not _ expect you to be the one who got absolutely wasted tonight.” The taller brunette scoffed and thew one of Moritz’s arms over his shoulder. “You need a nap. And you’re gonna wake up with a killer headache too.”

“But this is the first time I’ve actually had  _ fun  _ at a party,” Moritz giggled, winking at the blue-eyed mystery boy. 

“Yech, don’t wink at him.” Melchior swiveled the smaller boy around, searching around for an empty bedroom. He may be drunk, but he’s _ just _ sober enough to feel the predatory vibes spilling off mystery man. Melchior was also  _ just  _ sober enough to know that the guest bed on Bobby’s first floor was his best bet, because nobody gets busy in a bedroom on the first floor. That bed is dedicated to coats and jackets. 

Sure enough, after wading through a sea of people, Melchior found the bedroom empty. He lay the drunk teen haphazardly on the bed, checking the closet for anyone having a secret make out sesh. 

“Melchi, come here.” Moritz moaned into a pillow, limbs spread out like a dead spider.

“I’m not getting in that bed if there’s even a chance you’ll throw up on me.”

“I won’t, I didn’t drink that much,” He slurred in response, hiccuping into the sheets. 

“Here,” Melchior pulled out a trash can from under a wooden desk, “This is what you’ll use if you feel sick. Promise you’ll tell me?” 

“Yup.” Moritz agreed, popping the “P” which sent him into a fit of giggles. Melchior rolled his eyes, but slid into bed next to the drunk boy, flat on his back. 

“Why won’t you touch me?” Moritz suddenly sat up, leaned over the taller boy, and pouted. 

Ah, yes, it was at this moment god made Melchior decide that he definitely had unresolved inner homophobia.

Melchior knew he was probably gay, or maybe bisexual. Deep down, the thought was there. But of course he had yet to admit it to himself. It was Moritz that made him realize:  _ maybe I’m  _ not  _ straight.  _ Melchior tried to push feelings that had grown more significant since middle school down deep inside his mind, like cramming shameful old letters into a box hoping no one will ever find them and read them. Because if people did find the hypothetical letters, they would read them and assume they knew everything. It felt too private, which made him uncomfortable. And it wasn’t like he didn’t like girls; Melchior liked them just as much. He thought they were pretty, they were cute and their hair was soft, and their lips were always a shade of red or pink. So sure, Melchior still likes girls. But boys were sharp, handsome, and firm where girls were softer. 

Melchior tried to tell himself that he was envious of other boys, that he wished to be like those who looked like Hanschen. Even so, though he couldn’t entirely admit it to himself, he knew. But liking boys was weird, right?

Although Melchior prided himself on holding different and more abstract ideas and beliefs, this was the one thing he wasn’t willing to push against the grain for. He had no idea how Moritz did it, how he could be so open and willing to accept himself. It was one of the many things Melchior admired about Moritz. Moritz, who always had a melancholy air about him, his sad but thoughtful eyes, his soft brown hair. 

God, apparently alcohol made Melchior think. 

“Melchi?” The boy beside him whispered. 

Maybe Melchior liked Moritz. Maybe he wasn’t jealous. Maybe he just found Moritz to be pretty. 

He turned to face the smaller boy, finally reaching out to cup his jaw. As if Melchior had pushed some sort of button, Moritz launched himself on top of the taller boy, pressing their lips together.

Oh shit. So  _ that’s  _ what kissing boys was like. 

The two broke apart after two seconds, both wide eyed and suddenly a little more sober. 

“Moritz, what-”

“I’m sorry. I know I didn’t ask but-” The brunette was ready to launch into a nervous rant, but Melchior clapped his hand over the other’s mouth, silencing him. 

“Stop, I don’t want you freaking out. I think we both need to think for a second.” Melchior whispered. Moritz held his breath, and slowly removed the other’s hand from his mouth. 

“Okay. I won’t freak out.” He said slowly, removing himself awkwardly from Melchior's stomach, sitting next to his knee. 

“Do you like me?” Melchior asks, not wanting to prolong any uncomfortable silence.

“Maybe? I mean, all I know is that I felt like kissing you.” He replied and stared at the wall. “Do you like  _ me? _ ”

Maybe Melchior didn’t know. Maybe Moritz didn’t know either. But so what? Kissing Moritz was  _ way  _ better than kissing any other girl. 

“I think so? I don’t know really.”

“I don’t think you do. You like girls, right?” Moritz questioned, confusion reading in his eyes. 

“Yeah,” Melchior sighed. “But I also liked kissing you.” 

“Do you want to do it again? To see how it feels?” 

“That…” Melchior tried to think, but he didn’t want to find a reason not to. “I don’t see why not,” He let out, locking eyes with Moritz once again. 

Moritz hesitated, but he cupped Melchior’s jaw and leaned forward. Melchior can smell the alcohol traced on his lips and the fresh scent of his laundry detergent, it mixes together almost soothingly. Moritz stared at the other boy's lips, but instead pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. 

“I don’t get the feeling you’re entirely sure...” Moritz whispered almost apologetically. 

“No,” Melchior laid a hand on the back of Moritz’s neck, “I’m sure.” He stared determined into his eyes, swooping up to press a firm kiss to the other’s lips. 

His hand rested on Moritz’s hip, the feeling of his jeans and his soft maroon t-shirt ingrained in his palm as he tried to coax the other back into his lap. The kiss stayed hesitant and soft for a moment, he could feel Moritz trying to relax but was still tense with nerves.

“Relax, Moritz.” Melchior ran a hand through his fluffy hair in an attempt to get him to relax in between kisses as they caught their breath. Moritz slumped forward in response; threw his arms around Melchior’s shoulders as they sunk back into another kiss. Melchior’s head hit the backboard with surprising force. 

The kisses began to become more bruising and fervent, Melchior’s thumb rubbed over the waist of Moritz’s jeans.

“Do you want to…” Melchior broke the kiss and tugged lightly on the belt loops at the shorter boy’s waist. 

“Melchi…” Moritz whispered.

“Yes? What’s wrong?”

“I’m… tired,” Moritz managed out, once more slumping over, but this time drifting off into a deep sleep, now dead to the world. 

“Fuck.” Melchior slapped a hand over his eyes, sitting for a second and trying to think of  _ how in the hell he was supposed to get Moritz home now without his parents realizing that he is drunk out of his mind? _

He supposed he could figure it out in a second, because he also needed to get Moritz off on top of him, because he suddenly needed to pee very badly.

  
  
  


Hanschen and Ernst had been joking back and forth for most of the party, sipping alcoholic concoctions from red solo cups and at one point were practically pushed over the banister as half the football team decided to walk down the staircase all at once. But now there was a different problem that the two had to deal with; it was unbearably hot inside.

A few minutes earlier, Ernst undid the top two buttons of his shirt, and fanned himself with the hand that wasn’t holding a cup. Hanschen was just beginning to feel uncomfortably warm now. 

“Hanschen, maybe we should go to the back porch, it’ll be cooler outside,” Ernst stated, already gearing up to walk out of the swampy living room. 

Hanschen, having seen enough people do stupid things in the living room and was now quite hot, agreed: “Of course.”

Ernst led the way, clearly ready to get out of the uncomfortably warm house. He quickly tracked down where the sliding glass door was, speed walking the whole way there. Sure enough, when Ernst threw the glass door open, the cool night air fanned across their faces. 

Ernst quickly sat down on the back steps, looking up at the deep blue night sky. The moon casting a warm glow on the porch. Hanschen was quick to join him. 

“That’s better, isn’t it?” The brunette smiled, the soft light from the party raging on inside lit up the side of his face. 

“Yeah.” Hanschen let a small smile tug at his lips. 

“Hanschen,” Ernst broke the momentary silence that hung in the air, “Why did you really want to be friends with me? It’s not like you to change your mind so fast.” 

At this, Hanschen had to think carefully. Had it not been for the copious amounts of alcohol Ernst consumed, he would not have been so brave, thus the question caught him off guard. Luckily, Hanschen was accustomed to thinking on his feet.

“Fighting is exhausting and childish behavior, and besides, I like the person I’m getting to know.” Hanschen cocked his head to the side, smiling as genuinely as he could manage. His reassuring words were starting to hold truth, as much as the blonde hated to admit it.

“Right,” Ernst grinned, eyelashes fanning over his cheeks. “Another thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you like me?” Ernst flushed a little, but was brave enough to hold Hanschen’s gaze. Meanwhile, Hanschen struggled to get any words to spill out of his mouth. Drunk Ernst was apparently an outgoing Ernst. 

“Quite possibly.” He gulped. Once more, he would eternally be grateful that Ernst was brave enough to make the first move. He barely had to do any work? Was Ernst really that desperate? Hanschen also wished to know where the sudden lack of fear and pugnacious attitude had all gone. 

“Great, because I’m going to kiss you now.” Ernst declared, breaking Hanschen’s train of thought.

And kiss him he did. 

Hanschen doubted he would actually do it, but there they were.  _ Thank you Ernst for making my job easier,  _ he thought once more and shuddered at having to toss away his pride and kiss someone he’s supposed to despise without any excuses. It made him shiver. But after a second of slight internal freaking out, Hanschen allowed himself to focus on the kiss. 

This felt like the preface of a book, the author has to draw in their reader so they’ll buy the book. This kiss had to make Ernst want to by a whole set of paperback books, a.k.a more kissing. Hanschen had kissed a plethora of boys and girls, since building up “experience”. Ernst clearly had not. He seemed hesitant, nowhere near as forceful as Hanschen liked his make out sessions. He had allowed the smaller boy to initiate the kiss, but there was no way he was going to let it go on the way it was. He cupped the back of Ernst’s head, carding his fingers through his hair, his other hand drifting to his thigh. At the contact, Ernst gasped, opening his mouth so Hanschen could lightly bite his lower lip. 

“Jesus,” Ernst gasped, pulling away, even more scarlet than before.

“Wanna go again?” Hanschen smirked.

“Ugh, don’t ever say that again. But yes,” Ernst scoffed, swinging his leg over Hanschen’s, plopping down in his lap and pressing his lips forcefully against the blonde’s.

_ That’s more like it, _ he thought as Ernst’s soothingly cold fingers held his cheeks. Egging him on, he squeezed Ernst’s hips, making him let out another gasp. 

“Yes Ernst.” Hanschen was the one to break the kiss this time, “I like you.” It was almost a last minute decision to state his faux feelings, but his strange teenage boy brain remembered to clarify so as to not further complicate things,  _ and get his mission over with already.  _

“Good.” Ernst didn’t let him halt the kiss for too long, pulling him back in almost immediately. The kiss only stopped once more, Ernst pushing on Hanschen’s shoulders, to ask: “Wanna date?”

“Why not?” Hanschen smiled, then pulling Ernst in for another rough kiss, his heavenly scent of peppermint and eucalyptus floating around the two.   
  
  


“Thank the lord Hanschen finally got Ernst to go out with him,” Thea remarked, both her and Anna leaned against the glass door, peering out at the two boys on the back porch.

“Damn, and I thought Ernst was gonna be the hesitant one.”

“Uh-huh. Now we can actually get 'deets' on the other cast, took him long enough!” Thea laughed. 

“Oh  _ shit, _ ” Ilse and Wendla muttered in unison. Unbeknownst to Thea and Anna, the two had been standing behind them the whole time, also watching the two teens on the back porch.

“So I was right...” Ilse whispered to the raven haired girl, leading her away from the glass door and away from where other party goers might hear them (unlike Thea and Anna, who obviously weren't smart enough to hold that conversation in at least a quieter manner.). 

“Should we tell Ernst?” Wendla asked, chewing on her thumbnail.

“No,” Ilse shook her head, “I’ll talk to Hanschen. Do you know how much that would hurt Ernst’s feelings if he found out he was being used as a pawn?”

“You’re right.” Wendla sighed, looking over her shoulder at the sliding door one last time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! To be honest, this was the chapter that scared me the most, but I had just a little bit of fun writing it ^.^ See you again next week! And as always, Junmyeonish helped edit   
>  note: idk how many of yall are going to see this, I am but dead and I have not abandoned the story! I have just started school again and it's been difficult trying to get acclimate and edit and post every week, but I can promise you by at least next weekend I will post the next chapter. love yall <3333
> 
> <3


	7. These violent delights have violent ends.

It did not take long for Hanschen to realize that he was digging himself into a hole.

When Hanschen had first started planning how in the hell he was going to get Ernst to date him, he made a promise to himself not to let any feelings fester for the other boy. But why should he? Hanschen liked to think that he didn’t care for feelings as much as he did logic and reasoning. He would “date” Ernst simply for intel on the other cast: how far along they were, their ideas, who was playing who, all in hopes that he could make his version of  _ Romeo and Juliet _ the best. And he would do it all without feeling anything but at the very least friendly towards Ernst by the end of it all, because that’s just how his brain worked. 

But looking back, he was seeing how foolish and stupid the whole idea was. Hanschen was never the type of person to rely on someone else to improve himself, but in this case he was relying on Ernst to get a win. It became clear that his whole master plan wouldn’t be as fulfilling as doing a whole project by himself and not sneaking around like pre-schoolers playing pretend spies. So he found himself asking,  _ why? _

The truth was, maybe Hanschen did not hate Ernst because of the fake personality he assumed the tiny brunette had. Maybe did not hate him for not giving him a chance. Maybe it was because he was the one thing Hanschen could not have. His inability to have something, only realizing he wanted it until it’s out of reach. Hanschen tried to tell himself that was the only appeal of Ernst. It wasn’t based on any actual feelings,  _ it couldn’t be.  _

But after allowing himself to be Ernst’s boyfriend for two weeks and going on performative dates, as cheesy as it sounded, his feelings for the other were growing. 

For instance: the night at Ernst’s house after rehearsal.

Ernst had invited him over for a date, a movie marathon night. Hanschen had hated all the dates Ernst invited him on at first, but they grew on him. And on  _ this particular night,  _ Ernst’s house was rather cold, the autumn air had seeped in through the windows somehow. Ernst offered up one end of the couch to the blonde and lifted up a plush blanket for him to crawl underneath. Hanschen didn’t allow himself too much physical contact, but the couch nor Ernst left him enough space. Ernst’s legs were warm; his entire being was warm, like fresh baked cookies still cooling on the stove, and his scent of citrus and peppermint and lemon-y soaps made Hanschen feel as if he was bathed in a warm glow-- 

He had to stop himself from curling up right next to the smaller boy. Yes, as much as he hated it, his feelings for Ernst were starting to grow, like weeds sprouting in his heart, roots crawling around and squeezing it. 

Ernst had not told him too much about his progress with his group over the past two weeks, only telling Hanschen who was playing who and where he was in the writing process. Because he didn’t have too much to re-write, he was already way ahead of Hanschen. This only pushed him to write more, think harder and stay up for most of the night polishing up his plot. The whole ordeal was fruitless, all for nothing.

_  
  
  
  
_

It was a Monday rehearsal night when Hanschen was finally finishing up the segment in his script where Mercutio and Romeo would elope, Juliet helping them scheme instead of Friar Lawrence help the two hetero lovers get together. In fact, Hanschen was just beginning to write the last act when Director Freidrich burst into the auditorium unannounced; which, to be fair, wasn’t unusual. But Hanschen could see he was stressed about something. 

“Students,” He started with his usual greeting, “I have bad news.”

Director Freidrich did not deliver bad news. He would fix problems as fast as he was alerted of them, and never let his students down. When there were budget cuts for the spring musical Hanschen’s freshman year, Freidrich set up an Etsy shop selling mugs he made using his own pottery wheel, which helped cover the extra cost of the sets. When the football team spontaneously decided to do warmups in the auditorium as the cast of The Addams Family tried to rehearse, he quickly and quietly found another room for them to move to. But he  _ never  _ had to deliver bad news. 

“What is it?” Hanschen gulped, every atom in his body pinging around like the fuzz of a TV that had lost connection. 

“The elementary grades had reserved the auditorium the night we wanted to do our competition, and I was careless with my planning. The middle school musical is going up two days after, and after that is the talent show, and then the winning group would have performed after that. The only way we can do the competition is if we move it forward by a week.”

_ A week.  _

Now, Hanschen is a person who plans out precisely how he plans to complete a project. He had planned out his process to work out perfectly with the original date. But now he had to finish a script and rehearse a whole act, all in two and a half weeks. 

“Fuck,” He muttered under his breath. 

_  
  
_

At break, Ernst, like the angel he was, stood behind Hanschen as he sat in a chair revising the scene they planned on doing for the competition, planning to forget about the rest of the show unless his cast got picked, and  _ then _ he would work his ass off to finish it. Ernst rubbed soothingly at the blonde’s tense shoulders and leaned down slowly, as if he was looking into a lion’s gaping maw.

“Hanschen? You seem stressed.”

“You think?” He groaned and tipped his head back so it thudded against Ernst’s stomach. 

“Hey,” The brunette cooed, and Hanschen let Ernst slide his arms around his neck, “I’m sure it will all work out. I know you already have a plan, and besides, you’re a good writer.”

“God, Ernst,” Hanschen tried to relax. He closed his eyes and groaned, “I may be able to think on my feet, but this is  _ big.  _ A whole one hour  _ act  _ I have to perfect and perform. Jesus, why didn’t I just listen to you?”

“Because you’re passionate about your ideas, you said so yourself,” Ernst explained, cocking his head to the side and rested his chin on the top of Hanschen’s golden crown of hair. 

“Why are you so smart?”  _ Yes, please, elaborate on your goddamn writing process so I can have one less thing to stress about and prove that my idiotic efforts were not done in vain.  _

“That’s enough questions from you,” Ernst patted his shoulder, offering him a gentle smile as he walked back to his respective side of the auditorium. Hanschen holds his gaze, until he notices Ilse. She looks  _ pissed _ . 

_ And now she’s walking over to me. _

“Rillow,” She barked. “Can I talk to you out in the hall?” 

Hanschen did not say anything, but nodded and followed her up the rows of chairs and out the giant blue doors of the theater. Outside where nobody could hear them, the feisty dark haired girl glared deep into his eyes, practically shining laser beams into them.

“I know you’re just using him for cast secrets.”

Her statement was like a blow to his stomach, because first of all;  _ how in the hell did she figure it out? _ And second,  _ is she going to tell Ernst yet? _

“I am not going to tell Ernst  _ yet. _ ” She answers his question before the words could escape his mouth. “I’ll give you a second chance, a chance because I think it’s possible that the dickwad fuckboy that is Hanschen Rillow might have been clubbed in the head in his sleep, because I saw how you looked at him a moment ago and it looked like for once you actually had  _ feelings  _ for someone.” 

Well. Ilse is extremely good at reading people. 

“Yes, fine, I think I like him,” Hanschen sighed and pinched his nose, “Please don’t tell him. This whole  _ feelings  _ thing new to me and I don’t want to fuck it up,” He attempted to make a joke at his own expense, which fell flat as it was sliced by the tension between the two. 

“So I was right,” Ilse seemed surprised she actually managed to figure him out, eyes wide. “So let me get this straight; you wanted to use Ernst so you could gain secrets against your opponent so you could write the better script, but then somehow you managed to form an actual crush on him, right? And you might want to actually be in a genuine relationship with him?”

“Yes.” Hanschen glared at her amusement. 

“Fine. I’ll give you some time to prove that you aren’t lying, because you’re good at that, and you aren’t saying all this because you want him for his intel on the other team or sex. But if you fuck up, I’m telling him and he’ll hate you again. Got it?” She grit her teeth, ending her tirade. 

“Yes. Also, how did you figure it out?” 

“You aren’t the only smart one here, Hanschen,” She grinned, “I’m not daft. Also, your group members are terrible at making sure there’s no one around to eavesdrop on them when they’re talking about sensitive information.”

“Those  _ fuckers, _ ” Hanschen grit, “Which one was it?”

“As if I’d tell you, you’re still on thin ice for lying to one of my best friends,” Ilse scolded, speed walking back into the auditorium before he could ask any more questions. 

Before Hanschen made his own return, he quickly ran down to the cafeteria to grab skittles from the vending machine: Skittles were Ernst’s favorite candy (which he found out during a movie night). He didn’t make a show of giving it to the small boy, he didn’t need to over dramatize the gesture in order to look genuine in front of Ilse. He truly  _ did _ wish to make up for the fact that their whole relationship was built on his own lies, but he knew a measly bag of Skittles wasn't not going to cut it. He was sure he would figure it out later.

_  
  
  
_

Melchior felt like smoking cigarettes was such an outdated thing to do, but he liked the feel of the smoke on his tongue, the harsh flavor of the smoke. Yet smoking behind the school where dumpsters full of day old trash had been sitting in the sun all day was not a favorable pastime of his. He didn’t smoke very much anymore, only when he was stressed, since he had decided to use nicotine patches after Moritz said he didn’t like the scent of smoke he carried everywhere with him. _ Speaking of Moritz, _ the two boys had not spoken about the almost-sex incident at the party, which was the current thing that had Melchior stress smoking. For two whole weeks, the two just decided to ignore it. While Melchior was confused and slightly frustrated, the two weeks gave him time to think.

Melchior had not fully considered the possibility that he might have had a crush on Moritz, not up until maybe two days before the party, back when he was given the silent treatment. But Melchior had since decided: he definitely had a crush on Moritz. And if he was not sure before, he was now, after seeing his usually shy and fretful best friend in a totally different light. The hazy air that hung in Bobby Mahler’s house as music thumped outside the closed bedroom door, Moritz sitting delicately on top of him, as dainty as a fairy on a toadstool but looking at him through half lidded eyes, flushed with alcohol-

Melchior took a sharp drag on the cigarette only to cough out the smoke. 

“Are you ok?” A voice called out. Speak of the devil, it was Moritz. Only Moritz knew the places Melchior could sometimes wander off to to daydream or in this case, smoke.

“Oh shit, sorry,” Melchior called in return, snuffing out the cigarette after quickly remembering the other boy’s distaste for them. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just went down the wrong hatch.”

“Ah, okay.” Moritz smiled and leaned against the brick wall beside Melchior. “I know you don’t smoke as much as you used to, but please don’t get lung cancer,” He half joked and half pleaded. 

“Of course.” Melchior said softly. 

“Now,” Moritz started after allowing a minute of silence, “I didn't come out here to scold you about your smoking habits.”

“Oh?”

“No,” Moritz shook his head, looking away. “I wanted to talk about the party.”

_ Thank fuck,  _ Melchior nearly let out a sigh of relief, but then remembered this meant  _ an actual conversations where he would have to sort out his feelings. Again _ . 

“What about it?” 

“We almost had  _ sex,  _ Melchi,” Moritz stated, only giving his gaze to the black dumpster eight feet away. “That’s not something best friends do.”

“Yeah...” Melchior winced. 

“And I’ve been so scared to talk to you about it, because I don’t know if you’ve taken any of this seriously and I don’t want to ruin anything-” His sentence was broken off by a choked sob.  _ Holy shit he was crying.  _

“Oh shit!” Melchior looked away from the very interesting rock on the ground he had been staring at for the past minute to find Moritz near sobbing, tears already streaming down his face. In an attempt to soothe him, he placed both his hands over the salty cheeks. “Jesus, don’t cry, you aren’t ruining anything, I promise,” He held Moritz’s tearful stare. “I’ve been scared too. I had a lot to think about. But I can promise you i’m taking this seriously,” He assured the smaller boy, pulling him into his chest, cradling the nape of his neck and his lower back. 

“Where do we go from here?” Moritz whispered into Melchior’s sweater. 

“Could we give dating a try? I think it would be nice to test the waters,” Melchior reasoned, chin buried in the center of the smaller boy’s hair. It smelled of his signature strawberry shampoo. 

“Really? You’d be willing to do that?”

“Of course.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow it's been a bit, hasn't it?  
> I felt so bad taking this long to get this chapter out, but school just started back up and I just started taking dance classes again, and I have chamber choir after school(side note: bc of covid we rehearse outside which is kid of cool but dont worry we are strictly following CDC guidelines!), AND on top of all of that I've been trying to get my permit (Which I should end up getting on Saturday! Yay!). So now that things are settling down, HOPEFULLY I will start putting up chapters more often, but I won't promise certain dates, I've learned from my mistakes lol. But there's only 3 more chapters to go! I hope you enjoyed, have a wonderful day!
> 
> <3


	8. All are punished

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to put a possible TW for the tiniest discussion of homophobia, but I never write anything too bad in this fic but I just wanted to put one just in case!

“Ernst, I want orchids at my funeral.” Hanschen groaned into the lunch table.

“I promise this play won’t be the cause of your demise. It’ll be something cooler, like…”

“Stabbing myself in order to be with my presumed dead lover?”

“Stop thinking about stupid fucking  _ Romeo and Juliet! _ ” Ernst smacked the blonde upside the head with a now empty plastic container. 

“Ernst. Remember the orchids.” He grinned, then snatched the tupperware and neatly closed the lid on it for the brunette. 

“Hansi, seriously. I can’t stand you being so mopey and anxious,” Ernst groaned. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Hanschen pretended to think for a minute, but Ernst knew he already had something in mind. “Can you come to my house? We always go to yours.” 

“As long as it’s for me to help you write and  _ nothing else. _ ” Ernst grited playfully. 

“Deal.”

Ernst didn’t know it, but Hanschen was going through the same exact dilemma as him. Ernst though for  _ sure  _ he would hate the insufferable blonde for all eternity, but it seemed like now that wasn’t the case. And like Hanschen, he thought there was no way he could end up infatuated with the very person he had despised for so long. But Ernst was softer than Hanschen, he knew he should have seen it coming. He gave in to other people too easily and gave one too many second chances. Not only had Ernst started to trust Hanschen more than he ever thought he would, but with every passing day he took note of how  _ goddamn attractive he was.  _

He loved the way the blonde looked at him, he loved the curve of his jaw and the swoop of his hair, the occasional freckle on his cheeks, he loved the fleeting moments when Hanschen would be the one to initiate physical contact first. He loved the mintyness of his lips on the rare occasion they would kiss. Ernst liked to love more than he liked to hate. 

It was Hanschen’s turn to drive, and while he focused on the road, Ernst drank in everything he could. 

The thing about Hanschen’s house was that it looked like a priceless piece of art sold for thousands of dollars in a museum. And expensive art in museums wasn’t meant to be touched. Even stepping into the foyer felt like a crime, like he would be fined for even laying a finger on any surface that wasn’t the cool, crisp tiled floor. Speaking of clean floors, Ernst was more than happy to follow Hanschen’s lead and remove his shoes, fearing to even leave a speck of grime.

The blonde led him quietly through the house, which felt to Ernst like it was holding in a breath. It was as if he could feel the suffocating nature of Hanschen’s parents seeping through the walls, marinated in it after all the years of being lived in. But the breath was exhailed as soon as he stepped through the doorway into Hanschen’s room. It was neat and well decorated. Despite the room’s pristine look, it had more personality than the performative abstract paintings hung throughout the rest of the house. 

His bedspread was clean and neatly tucked in, a grey and blue set of sheets and pillows. The furniture definitely had a modern feel to it, all colored in a light grey or white. There was a doorway that led to a bathroom, which from a distance still appeared to be just as well kept. On the walls were pictures of Hanschen and a few faces, some of which Ernst recognized, such as Melchior’s, but others not so much. A floor lamp bathed the room in a soft white-ish blue-ish glow, making for relaxing mood lighting. 

“You can leave your bag on the floor next to mine.” Hanschen instructed, already seated in a chair at a neatly organized desk. 

“Already getting to work I see?” Ernst cooed and let his bag slide off his shoulder. 

“Yes sir. Go ahead and make yourself at home.” The blonde smiled sweetly. Ernst was more than willing to, taking it as an invitation to flop onto the grey bed sheets that held the scent of lavender. He stared at the ceiling for an amount of time he couldn’t count, but it felt long enough that he broke Hasnchen’s concentration on his script. 

“Why does the house feel so stuffy? I mean, you have a lovely home, but it almost feels sad.”

“Ah, yes, that would be my dad’s personal touch.” Hanschen stated. 

“Do you want to tell me more?” Ernst encouraged softly. 

“Well, first of all, he’s never home. But when he is, he’s suffocating. It’s always; ‘Hanschen, did you get and A on that last exam?’ And ‘Hanschen, what am I supposed to tell my coworkers if you fail?’, etcetera etcetera,” He started off, as if he had planned to recite a speech that had been building up inside his brain for years. “And he doesn’t show any affection towards me or my mom ever, he just buys us shit,” He sighs. “And he tries to convince me at any change he gets that I’m not bisexual, just confused. I guess he hates the gays,” He half joked. 

“I guess that’s something we have in common.” Ernst remarks.

“Really? Wait, not the hating the gays part though, right?”

“No,” Ernst laughed, “That’s not what I meant...I mean, I know my dad loves me, but if he ever found out…” The brunette looked to the side, swallowing. “It fucked me up for so long. I’ve always had this weird, inner homophobia towards myself. It doesn’t help that I have to pretend to be someone else infront of my own father.”

“Jesus. Is that why you didn’t like gay  _ Romeo and Juliet? _ ”

“No, I’m not _ that _ afraid of my own sexuality. I just thought it was stupid.” Ernst laughed once more. 

“You little shit-” Hanschen practically launches himself at the smaller boy, attacking his throat with tiny butterfly kisses. 

“Hansi, sto-o-op!” Ernst giggles, pushing his shoulders so he can look in Hanschen’s crystal clear blue eyes. 

_ Pretend to be someone else.  _

The remembered phrase made him stop short. 

“Hanschen, I’ll be right back, I just need to go to the bathroom real quick,” Ernst requested politely. “You know, I just forgot to wash my hands--I always do that after school.”

“Of course.” The blonde complied, removing himself from on top of Ernst. 

  
  


_ Shit,  _ is all Ernst can think as he leans over the marble countertop,  _ shit shit shit.  _

Ernst had no issue lying to Hanschen at first. He despised the boy, he didn’t care so much about how the other would feel. Not until now. They had shared too much with each other. Ernst trusted him too much, he had gone too soft, and Hanschen had confided in  _ him.  _ It felt wrong to continue lying. 

Ernst gave himself two choices. 

The first was fairly simple. He could keep pretending, trying to get information out of Hanschen, which, to be honest, he had completely forgotten about. The whole reason why he wanted to date him in the first place had long since slipped his mind. So the fake persona was virtually pointless by now. Which brought him to the second option; telling Hanschen the truth. There were multiple things that worried Ernst about this option. First of all, Ernst genuinely was starting to hold feelings for the other boy. Telling him the truth could compromise their relationship, and Hanschen could quite possibly end up disliking Ernst’s true persona; the soft, kind, and meek version of himself he knew Hanschen hated. His biggest ear overall was that Hanschen would never want to talk to him ever again. 

Ernst knew which choice was more appealing. But the thought of him choosing something that would benefit him and would end up hurting another didn’t sit right. So despite his fear of confrontation and rejection, he decided the second option was best. Now he just had to figure out how to say it. 

“Ernst? Are you okay?” Hanschen called from outside the door. 

So maybe he didn’t have as much time to think this through as he had originally thought. 

“Yes,” Ernst replied shakily. He opened the door, taking in a slightly concerned looking Hanschen. “Actually, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Oh, of course.” Hanschen smiled warmly, allowing Ernst to sit on his bed, kneeling down on the floor in front of him. “Take your time.”

“Hanschen.” Ernst took a shaky breath in, “I want you to know I truly care about you. This is the only reason why I’m telling you this,” He managed out, taking in how Hanschen’s face fell slightly. “But I haven’t been honest with you. I only got into this relationship with you, so I could gain your trust and gather information on how your cast was progressing. I made a mistake, and I truly do like you, even if our relationship started with ill intentions. I’m sorry.” He ended the rant, letting out a sharp breath. 

“Get out.”

“What?”

“Get the fuck out of my room.” Hanschen growled, rising from his position on the floor. 

“Hanschen wait-”

“I told you. I confided in you. I told you how many times I’ve been fucked over by people like you, and you still went ahead and did it anyways. You are a shit person, and you are just as bad as every other person who had played nice just to get sex from me.”

“Hanschen, no, I would never use you for-”

“No, you know what? Fuck you. Yeah, I only dated you because I wanted shit from you too. I don’t care about the fact that you used me for my information, it’s that you pretend to be nice for your own benefit, when deep down you only care about yourself. /and to think I actually started to like you”

“Fuck you too!” Ernst cried, spitting his words angrily as tears began welling in the corners of his eyes. 

“Get out, Ernst. I don’t want to talk to you. Go.” Hanschen barked one last time, choking on a sob that caught the brunette by surprise. Trembling, Ernst complied. 

After Ernst had angrily snatched up his bag and slammed his bedroom door, Hanschen began full on sobbing. 

Burying his head in a pale blue pillow, he allowed his tears to stain the fabric. Of all people, even with as many times as he’d been tricked and betrayed, this was the one time he didn’t see it coming. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooo we got some more angst!!!
> 
> Fun fact actually really sad fact: I hate writing angst, but I love reading it. So I tried my best to write some good shizzle, and I hope you enjoyed it. Also, as I was editing this I am realizing how short this one chapter is woops ;-; And I was correct! I knew it would take me another two weeks to put out this update and I apologize once more! I think what puts me off of editing is the fact that my laptop is so OLD and it takes forever to turn on and it moves at a snails pace. Hopefully I can get a new device to write on soon because I cannot STAND this old hunk of junk. I hope you have a good week/weekend, and I hope you enjoyed!


	9. Than this of Juliet and her Romeo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah omg she updated again???????

Ernst Hadn’t seen Hanschen since the night at his house. 

Granted, it had only been a day, but Ernst was almost proud at how he had avoided the other. However, he was not very proud of his past choices. 

After Ernst had first found out that Hanschen too had lied to him and manipulated him, he wanted to lock himself in his room and bawl. But it almost felt  _ wrong  _ to cry, or feel upset. Ernst allowed himself to cry once, and then sat down and had a talk with himself. 

Ernst often liked to do these, he thought of them as self-therapy sessions for his own improvement. Although that too also seemed so much more self-centered now. Was Hanschen right? Was he really only kind and did he only do thoughtful acts for others simply because he wanted to seem like a good person? He guessed so. 

After this little internal chat with himself, he promised not to fix things with Hanchen to make himself feel better, (which he realised was something he often did), but to instead make the other feel better. The only thing was, he had no idea where to start. 

In a perfect world, Ernst would have already figured out how to patch things up by the next rehearsal, but no such luck. There he stood, at the doorway of the theatre, and Hanschen was huddled within his group all the way at the end of the rows of chairs. 

But then there was another issue to be uncovered during rehearsal, besides for Hanshcen’s presence. For the life of him, Ernst couldn’t focus. He spaced out while running scenes, didn’t pick up cues, and his mind felt muddy. Wendla and Ilse both shot him concerned looks, as if their eyes were saying  _ wanna talk it out?  _ But Ernst, truth be told, didn’t want to  _ talk it out  _ with anyone but Hanschen. Talking about their fight to Ilse and Wendla would only make himself feel better, it would villainize Hanschen, it wouldn’t solve any real problems, and that was the opposite of what Ernst had vowed to do. 

Ernst was even more caught off guard when the blonde approached him at break, not daring to make eye contact. 

“We need to talk.” He stated, voice low, which prompted Ernst to think maybe they were going to talk about the fight, make an effort to fix everything, maybe come away on better terms- 

“I think we should call off the competition.” Hanschen stated, breaking Ernst’s internal monologue.

“Yes, that makes sense.” Ernst nodded after a moment. It did, what with them having less time to put something onstage that they were actually proud of. That, and the competition no longer had the same fiery, exciting feeling. The atmosphere around the two boys felt withered instead. 

“I think we should just do your version instead.” 

“What? Hanschen, no, you worked too hard-”

“So did you, Ernst. You’re in a better spot, your cast has most of the show memorized, it only makes sense. Our two casts can come together and take any roles you hadn’t already filled,” Hanschen argued. Ernst still wanted to argue, but he didn’t. He didn’t have the energy, nor did he want Hanschen to become even more upset with him. 

“Okay, you’re right.”

“Good, then I’ll tell Director Freidrich.” Hanschen nodded, turning briskly to go find the teacher in his office. 

“Guys.” Ernst walked with shaky legs back to his group, “Hanschen is calling off the competition. We’re doing our version as the fall play.” He announced, which was met by whoops and gasps.

“Ernst? Did you get him to do this?” Wendla asked, amazed. “Did our plan actually work? Wow, I can’t believe Hanschen set aside his pride for you.”

“No.” Ernst’s gaze fell as he picked at the hem of his dark graphic sweater, “Wendla, Ilse, can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure thing.” Ilse nodded vigorously, already pulling herself and the other two to another corner of the auditorium. 

“What happened?” Wendla whispered, concern lacing her voice. 

“He found out. We broke up. Well, not broke up, but you know what I mean,” Ernst whispered back softly. “And I had just started to actually like him, too.”

“Oh, Ernst,” Wendla sighed, then began to rub his back soothingly. 

“I thought maybe you were starting to like him. I gave him a talking to!” Ilse informed him eyes narrowing in anger and confusion, “I think he was genuinely starting to like you too.”

“I know, he told me so,  _ he confided in me,  _ he told me things I don’t think he’s ever told anyone else. And now I’ve fucked up and I need to fix it.”

The little pity party was then broken up by Freidrich’s voice, which was clear over the hum of students talking as he entered the theater, Hanschen in tow.

“Students. I have been informed that both groups have agreed to call off the competition, and perform cast 2’s version of  _ Romeo and Juliet  _ as the fall play. I think that makes perfect sense,” He said wisely, “Seeing as we have less time to prepare. Cast one will be joining cast 2, and you will work together to complete the show before the performance in four weeks. Hanschen and Ernst, I hope to see you work together as leaders to make sure your casts are prepared.” He finished with a wave, and began his walk back to his office almost as quickly as he came in. 

“Shit,” Ernst muttered under his breath, “I didn’t even think about  _ how in the hell are we supposed to work together like civil people _ after-”

“Ernst, relax, It’ll work out. You two will work it out,” Ilse assured him. 

  
  


They did not work it out. 

Well, not really. Over the next four weeks, after time had allowed some of their emotional wounds to heal, they were no longer curt with each other, but they had yet to actually talk everything out. Hanschen and Ernst put the two casts together as seamlessly as possible, and contrary to Ernst’s worries, they had been able to act civil around each other. Sure, they did not say more than short snippets of sentences to one another at first, but they eventually worked into longer conversations, which did not end with an argument. 

Ernst had gotten used to their strictly business conversations, it was like a routine. But the routine and the usual ways of the two boys was broken when Hanschen sat across from Ernst at lunch, plopping down unannounced. It reminded Ernst of the first time he joined Hanschen at lunch, which was now a little over a month ago, tomorrow being the opening night of  _ Romeo and Juliet.  _

“Ernst.” He greeted politely. 

“Hanschen.” Ernst replied, sure that the other could hear the confusion in his tone. 

“I know we haven’t been on the best of terms lately, and I haven’t forgiven you yet,” He started, beginning to fiddle with a small black band on his ring finger, “But my respect for you has grown. We have been able to work together as adults, and you’ve pushed aside any anger you’re holding towards me. I thank you for that.”

“Oh?” Ernst managed, all the while thinking:  _ where the fuck is this going?  _

“I wanted to ask you if you could come over to my house tonight to run lines, it would be strictly business,” Hanschen explained. “And if you’re willing, I think I’m also ready to talk things out.”

_ Thank fuck,  _ was Ernst’s next thought. But he wouldn’t say that out loud. 

“Of course,” He said instead.

“Great. I’ll see you at seven?”

“Sure thing.”

Ernst waited on Hanschen’s porch, having arrived a few minutes after seven, after ringing the doorbell. He tried to pick up Hanchen’s footsteps as he waited awkwardly in the brisk night air. The door swung open, and he turned expecting to see Hanschen, but instead saw a tall woman with hair the same shade as Hanschen’s. Her eyes seemed kind but tired, lines had started to form at the corners. Her lips were painted a shade of ruby, eyebrows knitting together as she studied Ernst. 

“Hello, Mrs. Rillow, I’m here to run lines with Hanschen.” Ernst explained. 

“Oh, of course sweetheart, he’s upstairs in his room.” Mrs. Rillow smiled and stepped back from the door to let him in. 

The inside of the house smelled different, it wasn’t the same smell it had before; that of a mall with a clean scent and traces of perfume. This time the smell of tomato sauce and something like baking bread wafted through the air. It was calming, and the house felt less stuffy. He managed to remember where Hanschen’s bedroom was, two doors down on the left after walking up the staircase. He knocked hesitantly, but the door opened up after two seconds. 

“Ernst.” He greeted, hair wet after probably just recently getting out of the shower as the spicy scent of his shampoo and aftershave drifted about him. 

“Come in.” The taller left his door open for Ernst to close. 

Hanschen sat in his chair by the desk, and Ernst took a seat on the bed, stiffening up awkwardly. 

“I know I asked you here to run lines, but I think we should get talking out of the way first.” Hanschen told him, crossing his knees and clasping his hands in front of them.

“Of course.” Ernst nodded. He tried to coax some of the tension to leave his body, but his hands couldn’t stay unclenched. Where does one even start when apologizing for dating someone for their secrets? Luckily, Hanschen started first.

“I know I hurt you too, Ernst.” Hanschen started. “I’ve thought about it _.  _ Ilse told me that me pretending to date you would hurt your feelings if you ever found out. And I told you in the worst way possible, and for that I’m sorry.” Hanschen explained himself. 

“I hurt you too, though. I didn’t tell you things that almost no one else knows, but you did. You trusted me, and I didn’t think to stop pretending. I’m sorry too.” Ernst responded. “I’ve been thinking about my motives, most recently. You were right. I thought that the person I was pretending to be was the confident, witty, smarter version of myself I made up to impress you, but maybe it was the kind person I thought I was.” Ernst pressed his palms into his knees. Admitting it to himself was hard, but this felt harder. “So as shitty as this whole situation is, thank you for helping me realize that.”

“That’s...really mature of you, Ernst.” Hanschen allowed himself to smile a little bit. “I think you’re really trying, and I admire that.”

“Thank you. Even though we’ve had our issues,” Ernst said, slightly joking, “I think maybe we’re good for eachother, we just didn’t realize it.” 

“I guess you’re right,” Hanschen nodded, agreeing. “You’ve really made me think about how my actions can affect other people, which seems like an elementary concept, but I guess it’s something I struggle with.” Ernst nodded, placing his chin in his hands. 

Now that they had talked it out, the two sat in awkward silence. 

“What now?” Ernst asked, slicing the quiet as it hung heavy in the air. 

“I thought I wanted to run lines, but in all honesty, I think I’m ready for tomorrow. I also think I just wanted to talk, but I didn’t know how to ask.” Hanschen states bluntly.

“I’m glad you did though.” Ernst smiled. 

“Ernst,” Hanschen put his head in his hands, rubbing his temple, “As much as this feels masochistic, I think I still like you.”

Well, that was something.

“Oh.” Ernst breathed, looking over at the blonde. 

This was the one thing Ernst hadn’t thought about; the leftover scraps of his crush on Hanschen. The one thing he had yet to internally think through, Hanschen  _ had  _ to bring up. However, as emotionally unprepared as he was, Ernst decided:

“I think I might still like you too.”

Any tension between the two was broken as Hanschen lunged towards the smaller boy, knocking him back onto the bed as he slammed into him, smashing their lips together. Ernst clung onto Hanschen’s hair, returning the kiss. After the kiss went on for a minute or two, Hanschen broke away and stated, with wide eyes; 

“I needed to test something.” Ernst burst out laughing at Hanschen’s excuse, with a huge grin he threw his head back. 

“Oh my  _ god  _ you idiot!” He lightly smacked the side of his head. “You look like a scared puppy.” He giggled, and Hanschen studied him for a second before a look realization crossed his features-

“Oh shit! Ernst, I’m so sorry, I didn’t ask-”

“Hanchen, it’s okay. I think I needed that,” Ernst trailed off, tracing his lips with his fingers. “We both definitely like each other.” He decided, reconnecting their gaze.

“Yup.” Hanschen nodded. “But I’m still sorry. This time I’ll ask properly: can we kiss again now?” 

“Yes, please,” Ernst nodded, pulling Hanschen down to press their lips together. 

“Ernst.” Hanschen broke the kiss.

“Yes?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever told you this, but you smell really fucking good.” He grinned wolfishly before burying his nose into the smaller boy’s neck, kissing up the collum of his throat, trailing kisses up and down and occasionally biting his collarbones. 

“Hanschen you idiot-” Ernst tried to talk, but he broke into a fit of laughter. “Hey!” He tried to scold, no malice in his voice. 

“Okay, okay.” The blonde agreed, moving back up to kiss him once more, maneuvering Ernst so he was laying on top of him, Hanschen now had his head pressed against the pillows. 

“Oh, is that how you like it?” Ernst teased, laughing at Hanschen’s face which had “unimpressed” written all over it, like a mother who’s had to scold her children all day. 

“Quit making fun of me,” Hanschen scoffed, initiating another kiss, hand dipping underneath Ernst's shirt. The brunette hummed and the contact, prompting Hanschen to nip at his lower lip. Ernst still let his hands wander through the other’s blonde hair, grabbing a fistful. To Hanschen’s own horror, he groaned in response. 

“Holy shit-” Ernst stopped the kiss, looking down at Hanschen with wide eyes.

“No, don’t say it-”

“Do you-”

“You better not fucking say it-”

“Hanschen had a hair pulling kink!” Ernst squealed, rolling off the other boy as peals of deep laughter rang out from his throat. 

“Shut up, my mom is going to hear you,” Hanschen whined, pressing his hands into his eyes. Ernst kept laughing. 

“Awhh, is Hansi embarrassed?”

“No, but I will be if my mom hears you,” He retorted, glaring over at the smaller boy. 

“All right, I’ll stop.” Ernst’s laughter died off, and he scooted back closer to the blonde. “Are you ok?” He whispered.

“Yeah, just tired.” He answered truthfully. 

“Ah, yeah, I guess I am too.” Ernst yawned to prove his point. 

“Wanna nap before you go home?” Hanschen offered, already pulling the other closer.

“Why not?” Ernst smiled, curling up beside Hanschen. 

  
  
  


“-For never was there a story of more joy, than that of Juliet and her Romeo,” Melchior spoke proudly out into the audience, beaming under the bright auditorium lights. Ernst knew it wasn’t a perfect rhyme, but he couldn’t think of a better way to end the play.

And he guessed it was a pretty damn good ending. The show’s ending scene was of course one of Romeo and Juliet happily married, their two families joined together peacefully. And the scenery and costumes tied everything together, garlands of fake flowers were added to the already elegant set, and Juliet’s wedding dress was Ernst's personal favorite touch. He could thank Wendla for that. 

“Great fucking show.” Ilse whooped and slung an arm around Ernst's shoulders after they had exited. 

“Thanks, Ilse.” Ernst beamed, but his smile widened when Hanschen grabbed his waist to pull him into a hug. 

“Not going to lie, seeing you kiss Wendla made me kind of jealous.” Hanschen whispered into his ear teasingly. 

“Oh, shove off. You know I only have eyes for you, o gorgeous one.” Ernst grinned, pulling back from the hug slightly. “Besides, I wouldn’t be surprised if she and Ilse had something going on,” Ernst hummed, and stared off at the red curtain beyond Hanschen’s shoulder as if in deep thought.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t be surprised.” Hanschen grinned and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. 

“Stop that, it’s gross looking,” Ernst giggled. “It ruins your handsome vibe.”

“Oh, you think I’m  _ handsome _ ?”

“Well duh, why else would I date you?”

“Oh shut up!” Hanschen grabbed Ernst’s face playfully. “In all seriousness, I’m glad we got our shit together,” Ernst sighed, leaning his head on the brunette's shoulder. 

“Me too, Hansi,” Ernst pushed back into the touch. The two maneuvered themselves to look back onstage at the set, as if it were a beautiful sunrise. Of course, the set was just as pretty, thanks to Ilse’s painting and artistic skills. 

“Break a leg tomorrow,” Hanschen kissed Ernst on the cheek, then let go to head back to the boys dressing room. 

Ernst watched him go.

Ernst waited until the auditorium had emptied, and he had said his thanks to his parents and cast, to sit back and finally relax. He wandered back to the red folding seats in front of the stage, looked up proudly at the set, which he would admit, was pretty good for a highschool production. 

_ For never was there a story of more joy,  _ Ernst thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uhhh surprise!!! I finished way faster than I thought I would. I hated the ending I had originally planned and so I went through and changed it. I wanted to get this last chapter out so I could feel closure on this story, and so I wouldn't forget next weekend. It's Sunday anyways. And also my computer is running relatively fast at the moment, so why not take advantage? The universe is on my side today I guess lol. So here's the end, I hope you enjoyed! I am excited to start working on on other stuff, and if you like Haikyuu, I should have a one shot posted sometime soon! Thank you all so much for your comments. I love you all!

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! 
> 
> This is my first ever published fanfiction, I hope you enjoyed! The lovely Junmyeonish helped beta-read, she's fantastic and she was the person who encouraged me to write. 
> 
> Also, sorry the first chapter is so short! They will eventually get longer ^.^
> 
> See you next time <3


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